First Impressions
by Sherlolly-221B
Summary: Molly's first impression of Robert Henderson is that he is a kind man with a good heart, and there's no way on this earth that he would hurt anyone. But first impressions can be misleading, as Molly learns the hard way. ... A bit of Molly/OC but mainly Sherlolly. Cover image by the fantastic theprivatelifeofsherlockholmes on tumblr.
1. First Impressions

**Hello folks! This is my second fanfiction so it is supposedly going to be better than the first (argh!). Not meaning to give you any spoilers, but all of my fanfics so far seem to have Molly being tortured in them... Ah well. She'll be fine.**

**This contains an OC named Robert Henderson. He seems harmless enough at first. He's very protective of his new girlfriend, Molly... But is that because he cares about her or is it something else? You'll have to wait and see. But this is actually a Sherlolly story... All will be explained soon!**

**Oh, and it's rated T for a reason. It's not _too_ dark a storyline but there are some dark themes in there. And it's not bad enough to be classed as an M, so not too bad, okay chaps?**

**Expect this to move quickly so I can get to the plot. Chapter one is a bit rubbish... It's basically just what happens during and in between their first few dates. Bit boring, but please read and rec. Thanks! xxx**

* * *

Molly Hooper had never been succesful when it came to dating. She had only been in a couple of serious relationships, and both of those had ended in disaster. Every time she found a new man, she always hoped that he was her soul mate. But when they split up (which always happened) she would cry for hours and tell herself she had been stupid for believing that he might have been 'the one'.

Of course, she had and would always have feelings for Sherlock, but she understood and accepted that they would never be together. It was nice to dream about it, though. She was always hopeful and, at the same time, always ready to be let down.

It had been six months since Sherlock had revealed that he was alive, and everything was returning to normal. Sherlock was living at Baker Street again and he had already been involved in several challenging cases. John had his best friend back, Lestrade had his reputation restored and Mrs Hudson had her two favourite lodgers staying with her once again. So, all in all, everything was good.

One day, whilst she was waiting for some test results, Molly decided to grab a bite to eat from the hospital coffee shop. She wandered down the corridor, not really focussing on where she was going. As she turned the corner, she bumped into a man who was carrying a load of paperwork and consequently all of the papers got scattered around the floor.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" Molly apologised, bending over to help him pick them up.

"It's okay," he assured her, laughing slightly. He had a deep and comforting voice.

Molly reached out a hand to pick up the last piece of paper. She felt his hand on top of her own and her heart skipped a beat. She looked up and smiled at him sheepishly.

"H-here you go," she stuttered, handing him the papers, "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," he told her again, "I should have been looking where I was going."

Molly looked at him properly for the first time. He was tall, with scruffy brown hair and sapphire blue eyes. He had an intelligent looking face, somewhat like Sherlock's. He was dressed, however, in a completely different style to the consulting detective. He was dressed in a cream shirt which he hadn't bothered to tuck into his brown trousers - he was easy-going and Molly liked that. He wore a silver bracelet and couple of rubber bands. Molly noticed that they were all charity wristbands. So he was charitable as well, just like Molly.

"I'm Robert," he said, holding out his hand for her to shake. Molly accepted and let out a nervous giggle whilst she shook his hand.

"Molly. Molly Hooper."

"Nice to meet you, Molly Hooper," Robert paused for a second and scratched the back of his head, "Are you, er... Are you busy?"

"I was just going down to the coffee shop." Molly told him.

"Well, I'll take these to my office and then, perhaps, would you like to have coffee with me?"

Molly beamed at him.

"Yes! I mean, em... I mean, that would be lovely."

* * *

Molly sat in the coffee shop, biting her nails nervously. She was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, Robert was her perfect man. This was their second 'date', and already they had become great friends. She had learnt that he worked on the children's ward, which was nice to know because it meant he cared about ill children. He was kind and smart and funny... And he was handsome too, although Molly was too shy to admit that to his face.

He walked over to her with a two cups of hot coffee. He placed them down on the table and took a seat opposite her. They both smiled at each other.

"Are you sure you don't want me to pay for that?" Molly asked him.

"No, honestly, it's fine," he replied, "It would be rude to ask you to pay considering I invited you to join me."

"You're really sweet, Robert," Molly said quietly, looking down at the table.

"You're sweeter."

Molly giggled and shook her head. "That's not true."

"Of course it is. You're the loveliest person I've ever met."

Molly could say the same thing about him. He was probably the nicest person on the planet. He couldn't hurt a fly. Or so she thought.

"So, have you had a good day?" he asked, stirring his coffee.

"It's been okay," said Molly, "You know what it's like. Just paperwork and stuff."

Robert snorted. "I know all too well."

"And Sherlock came in earlier so..." Molly stopped mid-sentence. She hadn't told him about Sherlock yet.

"Who's Sherlock?" Robert questioned. Suddenly there was a concerned expression spread over his face. "Your boyfriend?"

Molly let out a laugh. "No! God, no! And anyway, I thought you were..."

She noticed the corners of his mouth twitch as he tried to resist a smile.

"He's just a friend," she continued, "A good friend. He comes into the lab to work sometimes."

"Does he work here?"

"No, he's a-"

"Why do you let him in the lab, then?" Robert cut in, "You know that's not allowed."

"I know, but-"

"You shouldn't let him in," he thought for a second, "Does he _make_you give him access?"

"What? No, of course not!" Molly said hurriedly.

"If he gives you any hassle then tell me and I'll sort him out for you, kay?"

"Okay." Molly whispered, not entirely sure why Robert was saying all of this stuff about a man he didn't even know.

"And if he tries to get into the lab again, don't let him."

* * *

"Molly, can I borrow your microscope?" questioned Sherlock, walking straight past Molly and taking a seat. He started preparing the slide, not even bothering to wait for her answer.

"It isn't _my_microscope," she responded, folding her arms defensively, "And, er, no. You can't."

Sherlock stopped what he was doing and looked up at her, his face full of confusion.

"What did you say?"

"I said you can't. I won't allow it."

Sherlock furrowed his brows. It was unusual for Molly to be this... assertive.

"But why not?" he asked, "I don't understand. You _always_let me borrow your microscope."

"It's just, er... It's just Robert said-"

"Who's Robert?" Sherlock interrupted.

"H-he's my boyfriend." she stammered.

"I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"Well, we've only been going out for a few days... And since when do _you_care?"

"Just curious."

Sherlock ignored the fact that Molly didn't want him to use the microscope and looked through the two lenses. This specimen was most intriguing.

"R-Robert says I shouldn't let you walk all over me." Molly said after a while.

"How interesting." said Sherlock nonchalantly.

"He says I should stand up for myself a bit more," Molly rambled, more for her own benefit, "He says it's not fair that you insult me all the time."

"People say a lot of things, Molly. It doesn't mean that they're right."

"I think Robert _is_ right. I think I _should_defend myself more."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. This 'Robert' fellow sounded most irritating.

"Anyway, what are you investigating?" Molly asked, peering over his shoulder.

"I thought you weren't going to allow me to work in here."

"Well, I suppose if it's for a case..."

"Yes, it is." Sherlock lied (it was actually just an experiment).

"Okay, so what are you investigating?" she asked again.

"It's just a case," snapped Sherlock, looking up at her and scowling, "Stop pestering me and let me get on with it."

Molly obeyed and let him work.

* * *

"That was lovely." Molly said as she finished her lunch. Robert had taken her out to a French café for dinner, and the salad she had ordered was rather delicious.

"I'm glad you liked it," Robert said with a smile, "I love French food. My mum's French, you see."

"Oh, cool!" Molly was getting more and more intrigued about Robert's exciting life. During this date she had learnt that he had been on trips to every continent, and had even taken part in a charity mountain climb. He was such a kind-hearted man.

"She and my dad have retired now, and they're living in Paris," he continued, "I go and visit them when I get a chance. I'm very close to them."

"I was really close to my father," Molly admitted, "Until he... died."

"I'm sorry." Robert smiled and put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

"It's fine."

"So, anyway, how would you like to come to my place tonight?" he asked.

"I would absolutely love to."

* * *

**So that's chapter one!**

**And now Molly's going to Robert's house. What could possibly go wrong?**

**You'll have to wait and see, munchlings!**

**Thanks so much for reading and... yer... xxx**


	2. Just in a Bad Mood

_**In the last chapter...**_

**_Molly met a nice guy called Robert and they went on a couple of dates. She stood up to Sherlock because of her new boyfriends advice and..._ Okay, there's no point in telling you this if you've already read it.**

**So this is chapter two. Or, as they say in the world of Sherlock, chapter two... Which is exactly the same... Oh well...**

**Once again, thanks for reading. The plot starts to emerge in this chapter, and it becomes very clear what it is.**

* * *

Molly spent ages getting ready for her date with Robert. She wanted to look special tonight. She wanted him to notice her.

After a few minutes of rummaging through her wardrobe, she eventually chose to wear a pale green dress and a pair of white flats. She curled her hair and put on some make-up - some coral lipstick and turquoise eye shadow, she didn't want to overdo it. She put on some silver jewelery and then looked at herself in the mirror. She looked... okay. She never looked beautiful, as such, not in her opinion anyway. But she looked good enough.

She made her way into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine to calm her nerves. She had never been this worried about a date before. She desperately wanted this to go well.

Molly wondered what Robert's flat would be like. She imagined it would be full of photographs and souvenirs from his adventures. But, of course, she would have to wait and see.

She heard her cat meowing and sighed.

"Oh, Toby, what is it now?" she asked, looking down at him and smiling, "You have no idea how stressed I am about all of this. But, why would you? You're a cat."

She took another sip of the red wine and took a deep breath.

It was time to leave.

* * *

The exterior of Robert's flat was pretty much how she had expected. It was a similar building to the ones on Baker Street, with grey bricks and a recently painted green door. Robert apparently lived in the bottom floor flat.

Molly knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer. It only took a few seconds for Robert to open the door. He smiled when he saw her.

"You look beautiful." was the first thing he said. Molly blushed and looked down at her shoes.

"You look good, too." she said quietly. Robert was dressed in a stylish grey suit with a white shirt and a green tie, which, oddly enough, matched the shade of Molly's dress perfectly.

"Come in, come in," Robert ushered her through the door and into his flat, "This... is my home."

Molly looked around, mesmerised. His flat was just as lovely as he was. The walls were a pale shade of brown which went well with the wooden furniture. The fire was lit and the room had a very cosy feel. There were books everywhere - on the coffee table, on the floor, on the armchair - which was nice because Molly was also a keen reader.

"It's lovely," she said, turning around to face her companion, "I really like it."

"I'm glad," Robert replied, "I went to a special effort to tidy up. It's usually a lot messier than this..."

"It can't be worse than my flat!" Molly laughed, "And it's not as if you get much time to clean. What with your work and all your adventures."

Robert took a seat on the sofa. "I wouldn't call them adventures, and I haven't been on holiday for two years."

"I haven't been on a holiday at all since I've been working at Bart's." Molly admitted, taking a seat beside him.

"That's a shame. Travelling is one of the things I love the most. Along with kids and reading."

"It's hard not to notice your personal library," the pathologist joked, "It's quite a collection. What sort of stuff do you read?"

"It sounds weird, but I really like detective stories."

Molly stared at him and blinked. That was unexpected. She didn't know whether it was good or bad, considering she was a friend of a certain consulting detective.

"That's funny," she said, "Sherlock's a detective."

She sounded quite proud of him, which annoyed Robert a little.

"Oh. Right." he responded, trying not to sound irritated.

"He's a genius, he really is," continued Molly, "I'm surprised you haven't heard of him. Sherlock Holmes: the great detective. He's brilliant."

"Yes, well, he isn't here now so you don't have to go on about him." Robert snapped.

Molly was startled by his comment.

"Oh. Sorry."

They sat in silence for a few moments. It was Molly who spoke first:

"So, what are we having for dinner?" she inquired.

"I thought we could have a takeaway. Does Chinese suit you?"

"Yeah, that's fine. Dim sum and... all that. I like Chinese."

"Good." he picked up his mobile from the cluttered coffee table and dialed the number of his favourite Chinese takeaway (which he knew off by heart, because he was a big fan of exotic food and had takeaways on most nights). "So, what are you having?" he asked before he started the call.

"Er, I'm not really bothered. Nothing too filling. Maybe some spring rolls or something? I'm not really hungry."

Robert rolled his eyes and clicked the 'call' button. "Whatever." he said, putting the phone to his ear.

Molly waited as Robert ordered the food. She wrung her hands anxiously, not sure what she should say when he finished the call. When he put the phone down, she just smiled awkwardly and waited for him to say something.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I was just trying think of something to say."

"Don't bother."

Before Molly could respond, Robert leaned forward and kissed her. It took her a few moments to come to her sense, but when she did she pushed him away and broke the kiss.

"Why did you do that?" Robert interrogated, a look of annoyance spread over his face.

"I... I don't know..."

He went to kiss her again, but she stood up before he could.

"Sorry," she said, "I don't know why-"

"I thought you actually liked me." Robert said.

"I-I do..."

"Then kiss me!" he yelled, standing up and taking a step towards Molly. She stumbled backwards, slightly scared because of his outburst.

"I just think that maybe it's a little too soon-"

Robert raised his fist and hit her hard. She collapsed to the floor and lifted a hand to her face. She looked at Robert, horrified, and he looked at her and suddenly felt really guilty.

"Oh, Christ, Molly," he said, kneeling down beside her. She was crying now. He gently stroked her cheek. "I am so, so sorry."

"It's fine..." Molly lied.

Robert offered his hand and helped her up. "Come here." He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head against his chest and sobbed.

_He's just in a bad mood_, she told herself, _he won't do it again. He said he's sorry. He won't do it again...  
_

* * *

**According to the voice in Molly's head, he won't do it again.**

**According to me, he just might.**

**The storyline has shown itself for the first time! This story is moving very fast. But anyway, thank you for reading.**


	3. Once Again

**Chapter three is here. That's three chapters in one day. I have nothing better to do with my life.**

**I'm starting to hate myself for everything I'm doing to Molly.**

**Oh well.**

* * *

Molly sat in her office with her head in her hands, thinking about the events of last night. She kept reassuring herself that it was a one off. Robert had been working had all day. He was tired, and she couldn't blame him for losing his temper. However, there was a feeling inside her stomach that made her feel sick. She tried not to think about it.

She was supposed to be meeting him again tonight and she intended to do so. She didn't want to be miserable - she wanted to enjoy it.

She could hear people talking outside now.

"You're being stupid." said a man's voice which Molly recognised as John Watson's.

"I'm telling you, John!" replied the voice that was undoubtedly Sherlock's, "He wasn't murdered. It was suicide."

"But how-"

Sherlock stopped John talking by opening the door to Molly's office. Molly looked up and tried her best to smile at the two of them.

"Hi." she said.

"Hello Molly," replied John, smiling back at her, "Is it okay if we have a look at one of the bodies? Sherlock has a theory he wants to prove."

"T-that's fine." Molly stood up and the three of them walked out of the office and towards the morgue. Now that John could see her properly, he noticed the black eye that she had acquired somehow.

"Molly, are you okay?" he asked. She looked at him, confused. "It's just... your eye."

Molly gasped and raised a hand to her face. She then laughed. "Oh, oh this?" she chuckled, "Oh, er, it's just... I... I walked into a lamppost! Yes! I feel really silly now... but, er..."

"Right..." John decided to believe her. He didn't like to assume people were lying. But Sherlock could _tell_ when people were lying. He decided not to say anything about it, however. Not whilst John was there.

* * *

"Right, well, we better be off now," John said, once Sherlock was done proving that the cause of death _was_, in fact, suicide, "See you soon, Molly. Come on, Sherlock."

"Actually, I'm staying here for a while." Sherlock told him, staring intently at Molly. She looked up at him, confused, and he winked at her.

"What?" John cast him a bemused expression, "Why?"

"That's none of your business. Now, if you don't mind, I've got work to do. Come on, Molly." He took hold of Molly's arm and took her out into the corridor.

"Sher-"

"We need to go upstairs."

He led her to the lab and took a seat in his usual place. He spun around on his chair a few times and put his hands together in a sort of praying position.

"So," he said, "Are you going to tell me how you got that bruise?"

"I-I told you. I walked into a lamppost."

"Don't lie to me, Molly. It's a waste of my time and yours."

"W-well..." she thought about telling him, but decided better of it, "It's got nothing to do with you, so, I-I'm not going to tell you, okay?"

Sherlock gritted his teeth and stood up again. He straightened his jacket.

"Fine."

He walked away and left Molly alone. She wondered if she should have told him. But, then again, it was just a one off.

* * *

Molly didn't even bother to change her outfit for tonight's date. She made her way to Robert's house as soon as she left work.

"Ah, Molly!" he said when she arrived, "Come inside, the kettle's just boiled."

The two of them walked into the flat. Molly stood in the living room, biting her nails, whilst Robert went into the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea. He brought two mugs in and set them down on the coffee table.

"Please, sit down." He sat down himself and patted the space next to him. Molly perched beside him. "Are you okay, tonight? You're a bit quiet."

"I'm fine." Molly lied, looking away from him.

"Sorry about... yesterday," he said, "I was just a bit tired and grouchy, that's all."

"I thought as much," she looked up and smiled at him, "It's okay. Everyone loses their temper."

"I was scared I'd lost you. I finally find a girl I like and... I go and ruin everything."

"Honestly, it's fine."

"That bruise looks nasty," said Robert guiltily, "Does it hurt?"

"It's okay, now. Don't worry about it."

"I am _really_sorry, you know?"

Molly smiled and nodded. She knew she had been right; it was just a one off, he had just been in a bad mood. And now everything was fine between them again.

"Do you take sugar in your tea?" Robert inquired.

"Just the one." answered Molly.

"That's good 'cause I've already put it in... Is Chinese alright for dinner, again? I haven't had time to prepare anything."

"That's fine."

"You barely ate anything yesterday." he stated.

Molly shrugged. "I kind of lost my appetite."

"Did anything exciting happen today?"

"Oh, Sherlock and John, came-" She stopped in her tracks. Robert didn't like it when she talked about Sherlock.

"Sherlock _and_John?" he looked at her quizzically, "Who's John?"

"Sh-Sherlock's best friend. He's a doctor."

"What's he like?"

"He's a nice guy. I like him." As soon as she said it, Molly regretted it.

"What do you mean you _like_him?" Robert asked, raising his voice.

"I-I just mean-"

"You're supposed to be my girlfriend!" shouted Robert. Molly leaned back against the sofa, terrified. "You can't like other men as well! What's going on between you two?"

"Nothing's going on-"

"You're lying to me!" Robert took a tight hold of Molly's wrist. He pulled her up and dragged her into the kitchen. She struggled and tried to break free, but his grip was too strong and it hurt an awful lot.

"Ow! Robert, you're hurting me!" she shrieked.

"No, you're hurting me by saying you like other men!" Robert bellowed. He pushed her against the wall.

"Please, stop it, Robert!" she begged, crying, "I didn't mean it like that."

Robert stared at her for a second.

"You're right," he said, backing away from her, "I'm sorry."

He held out his arms. Molly reluctantly stepped forward and let him embrace her.

_It's happened again, _she thought as he ran his fingers through her hair. Now she realised that last night had most definitely not been a 'one off'.

* * *

As soon as Molly got home, she slammed the door shut and collapsed against the wall, weeping. She held her knees tightly, as if trying to comfort herself. Toby nuzzled against her leg, and she stroked his soft fur.

"O-oh Toby!" she wailed, "I really thought he was perfect. And now... Now this."

The cat let out a worried meow which only made Molly cry harder.

Right now, she wished Sherlock was here.

* * *

**Argh! Tell Sherlock, Molly! Or this thing may get a whole lot worse...**

**Thanks for reading. Hope it wasn't too depressing.**


	4. Three Men in the Morgue

**Before you read this chapter, I just want to say a big thank you to the people who have read and reviewed so far. You've made my life better.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading once again. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Molly sat on a slab, thinking about what she was going to do. Robert had hurt her twice now. She knew it was wrong, but her heart was telling her to forget about it. Her head was screaming for attention: 'Don't stand back and do nothing, Molly! Tell someone! Tell Sherlock!'.

The doors to the morgue opened suddenly and cause Molly to start. She stood up quickly and was presented with Sherlock Holmes, Gregory Lestrade and one other man who she didn't recognise.

"Oh, hello," she said, smiling. Greg cast her a friendly smile. The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched uncomfortably - he looked like he really didn't want to be here.

"Hi, Molly," responded Lestrade, "We, er, need to look at a body."

"Same one as yesterday." muttered Sherlock.

The detective inspector looked at him and furrowed his brows.

"You were here yesterday?" he questioned. Sherlock rolled his eyes as if to say 'idiot'. "You never told me that."

"I didn't think it was important." the consulting detective retorted.

"Can we just get on with it?" the other man snapped, scowling at Sherlock, "I'd like to get away from _you_as soon as possible."

"Shut up, Anderson." said both Sherlock and Lestrade.

Sherlock stared at Molly for a moment, waiting for her to do something. "Well?" he said impatiently.

"Oh, right, sorry." Molly hurried towards the drawers where all of the bodies were contained. She opened one of them and placed the corpse on the table. "T-there you go. Take as long as you need. I'll just, er... I'll just wait here."

Greg and Sherlock walked over to the metal table. The former peered over the dead man's body, inspecting it, and the latter studied from a distance.

"Look at the markings," he said, "_Definitely _not murder."

"But it isn't possible!"

"_Of course_it's possible. Open your eyes, Lestrade!"

Molly sighed and walked away from the argument. She ended up standing next to this new man - Anderson.

"He's a nightmare." he whispered into her ear.

"Who? Sherlock? I mean, I know he can be a handful sometimes, but he isn't that bad..."

"He doesn't care about anyone but himself," Anderson continued. _That's not true, _thought Molly. "He's a psychopath." _That's not true either._

"Sh-Sherlock," she said. The lanky detective turned around swiftly. "Can I... talk to you for a second? In private?"

Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh but then replied: "Of course."

They both walked out into the corridor.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" Sherlock asked.

"It's just, er..." Molly took a deep breath, "It's just, well-"

"Molly!"

Molly gasped upon hearing Robert's voice, and turned around quickly.

"Oh, Robert. Hi." She tried her best to smile at him.

"Who's this?" the doctor inquired.

"T-this is Sherlock," Molly told him. She turned to face Sherlock again. "And Sherlock, this is Robert."

Robert held out his hand, offering a handshake, and Sherlock reluctantly accepted. "Nice to meet you, Sherlock," the former said through gritted teeth, "I've heard lots about you."

Sherlock looked at him suspiciously. "Molly mentioned that you two were 'dating'."

"Oh, yes. We've only been going out for about a week, so it's still early days."

"R-Robert works on the children's ward upstairs," Molly informed, "That's how we met. Off-"

"Office romance." Sherlock finished the sentence for her, still looking intently at Robert. There was something wrong with this, something he couldn't get out of his head. "I, er... I have to leave."

"But you only just got here!"

"Something's come up. Tell Lestrade I'll see him later on today."

Sherlock wandered off, without looking back. And Molly was left alone with Robert.

"Well, he's a bit odd." Robert said.

"H-he's okay," Molly responded, "He can seem a little... strange, at first, but he's fine really."

"I don't like him."

"W-well, I do and-"

"I want you to stay away from him." said Robert. It felt like an order - one she had to obey. But, this was Sherlock, after all. Molly wasn't just going to get rid of him from her life, as he was a big part of it.

"He's my friend," she insisted, a little more defiant, "You barely know him, anyway."

"I _said_," Robert sounded angry with her, "Stay away from him. I don't want you anywhere near him. Is that clear?"

Molly nodded quickly, not wanting to upset him any further.

"Good. Now, I need to get back to work. I'll see you soon."

She flinched when Robert planted a kiss on her cheek and let out a sigh of relief when he was gone. She walked back into the morgue, rubbing her temples - this whole thing was giving her a headache.

"You okay, Moll?" asked Greg.

"Where's the freak?" asked Anderson.

Molly looked from Lestrade to Anderson and then back to Lestrade.

"H-he's gone." she told them, "He said he'd see you later."

"You still haven't answered _my_question," Greg said softly, "Are you okay?"

"Y-yes, I'm fine." lied Molly.

"Good. Well, we better be on our way, so see you."

* * *

"Stupid kids!" Robert yelled, barging through the office door. Molly almost fell off her seat. "Oh, sorry, didn't mean to frighten you."

"It's fine." she lied.

"One of my patients walked right into me and I spilled boiling hot coffee all over myself." he told her.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I suppose seeing you helps me to feel better."

He smiled and Molly smiled back awkwardly.

"So, anyway," he continued, "Would you care to join me for a drink tonight?"

Molly gulped.

"It would be my pleasure." she said, secretly dreading it. She had seen what Robert was capable of normally. Imagine how bad it could get when he's had alcohol.

* * *

**That's it for now, folks! Sorry for the short chapter - I haven't had much time. But I wanted to post this so... Yeah...**

**Robert and alcohol cannot be a good combination...**

**You'll just have to wait and see what happens!**

**Once again, thanks for reading!**


	5. Pretending

**This chapter starts out quite nicely. Just Molly and Robert having fun, you know.**

**It gets kind of bad towards the end. So be warned.**

**But it's not _too_bad. Nobody gets killed or anything...**

**Thanks for reading! :)**

* * *

The evening so far had been surprisingly pleasant. Molly and Robert settled in the pub, had a few drinks and got talking about work and other relatively mundane things. Molly learnt a lot more about Robert, and she almost forgot about her troubles. Everything seemed to be fine. But maybe that was Molly just pretending.

"Another drink?" Robert asked, smiling.

Molly shook her head - she'd already had two glasses of wine, and she thought it would be a very bad idea to have another. She was, of course, feeling a little tipsy, but that was all. She wasn't exactly drunk, but the alcohol had started to take its toll on her. And Robert, who had drunk two whole pints.

"There's no point of staying then, is there?" he continued, "This place is nice, but it's a bit crowded. Why don't we go home?"

Molly wasn't entirely sure what he meant by 'home'. Did he mean his flat? Or hers? Or somewhere else?

"Yeah, okay." she said, even though she really didn't want to leave. She felt safe around all of these people. If it was just her and Robert, things could get bad.

They stood up and Robert put his arm around her, and for once she didn't mind him being so close. It was the wine, probably. Otherwise she would have felt uncomfortable in this position.

The two of them walked down the street, heading towards the main road. Molly occasionally stumbled - she was wearing heels, after all. She had decided to make a special effort tonight (she wasn't exactly sure why. Maybe she wanted them to appear like a normal couple?). She tripped over a crack in the pavement and almost collided with the ground, but Robert's strong hands caught her by the waist and lifted her up again.

"Thank you." she said, giggling (yet another effect of alcohol).

"You should be more careful," Robert started to laugh with her, "You'll hurt yourself."

_You'll just hurt me anyway, _Molly thought, as everything suddenly came flooding back to her.

"I-I'll try to be more careful in future." she stuttered, putting on a fake smile.

"That's my girl." said Robert.

They turned the corner and reached the main road. Robert hailed a cab and they climbed into the back. He told the driver his address and then turned back to Molly.

"That was fun."

"I-it was, wasn't it?" Molly tried to sound like she meant it. Which, she had to admit, she did. It had been a rather lovely date. Better than their previous two, anyway.

"And you look really pretty tonight, by the way." said Robert.

Molly blushed and looked away. "Y-you too."

Robert chuckled. "Yes, I do, don't I? Don't I look pretty?"

Both of them burst into uncontrollable laughter. The cabby rolled his eyes - he hated drunks.

* * *

They got to Robert's flat and slumped down onto the sofa. It had been a great night. Of course, now that they were alone, Molly was slightly worried. She bit her lip and tried not to show her nerves.

"I enjoyed that," Robert told her, "We should do it again some time." Molly nodded quickly and Robert looked at her with confusion. "Are you alright? You look a bit pale."

"I'm fine," Molly lied, "It's just, er... Just the wine."

"Are you sure you're not coming down with something?" persisted Robert.

"Honestly, I'm fine."

The back of his hand brushed past her cheek. Molly felt a shiver of fear run down her spine. "I'm glad I met you." said Robert.

"M-me too."

"This is our... Sixth date? Right?" Molly nodded. "So, I think... Maybe we should, you know, take our relationship to the next level."

_Is he suggesting what I think he's suggesting? _Molly thought, her heart suddenly racing. She said nothing, not wanting to upset him by saying no, but also not wanting to say yes.

"Molly?"

"Hmm? What? Oh, I don't... What were you saying again?"

"I said," Robert continued, "We should take our relationship to the next level."

Molly tilted her head to one side, trying to look confused. "I-I don't know what-"

Robert suddenly leaned forward and their lips met. Molly froze, waiting for him to break the kiss. She closed her eyes and pretended that he was someone else... No, not just _someone_- she pretended that he was Sherlock. Of course, he wasn't Sherlock. And Molly was never going to kiss Sherlock. So there was no point pretending, really.

When it ended, she kept her eyes closed for a few seconds, not wanting to look at him. He wasn't hurting her, as such. But she didn't want _this _either. She realised for the first time that she didn't want any of this. What was the point? What was the point of dating a man who would just hurt her? She deserved better than this. She deserved someone like Sherlock. But obviously she was never going to get Sherlock.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Robert kissed her a second time. He ran his hands through her soft chestnut hair. She felt his cold skin against her neck and shuddered. This felt wrong. This felt so, so wrong.

"Robert," she said, gently pushing him away, "I... I can't."

She didn't know whether to be proud of herself for having the courage to say that, or mad at herself for it. It all depended on his response.

Robert made eye contact with her, and for a second he looked disappointed. But he soon snapped out of it. Molly expected him to hit her - or worse - but instead he kissed her again. He bit her lip slightly and she couldn't help but emit a soft moan. However, she didn't want this. She wasn't going to let this happen. She pushed him away, with more force than the last time.

"I said no, Robert." she said, her voice suddenly strong and filled with confidence. False confidence. Confidence she didn't have. Her eyes were filled with fear and all she was doing was trying not to let it show. By _pretending_to be brave.

She gulped when she noticed Robert had clenched his fists.

"Well, it isn't your decision." he growled at her.

Molly cowered as he raised his fists, but there was no use. He hit her hard, this time in the shoulder. She yelped in pain and tears flooded down her cheeks. It took a few seconds for Robert's face to change from anger to regret.

"Christ, Moll... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

The woman didn't bother to reply. This hurt _so _much. Not just the physical pain, but the fact that he would actually _do_ this to her. She felt her heart break. She had wanted to find a man who would love her back. And instead she got Robert. He was... heartless. There was no other word for it. She didn't understand how he could do all of this charity work and help the children when in actual fact he was a _monster_.

She _had_to tell someone.

She had to tell _Sherlock_.

* * *

**Oh God... When I was writing that I felt a bit sick with guilt. Poor Molly. One of my favourite characters and I'm torturing her. I guess someone like Anderson would say I was a psychopath... But actually:**

**"I'm not a psychopath, Anderson, I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research."**

**And this is actually true. I am a bit of a sociopath.**

**Just a bit.**

**Anyway, thanks so much for reading and I hope I didn't make you too miserable!**


	6. Hiding in the Darkness

**Seriously, I hope you like this chapter as I spent ages on it, even though it's fairly short. The middle section isn't very good... But I'm quite proud of the last section. That makes me sound really vain and pompous, right? Ah well.**

**Thanks for reading! Oh, and I apologise for my chapter titles. They absolutely suck. **

* * *

Molly found herself sitting in St Bart's A&E, waiting for a doctor. Her legs were trembling and her hands were shaking. Her shoulder hurt tremendously. It was dislocated - she knew that for a fact, as she was a doctor herself. But, of course, she couldn't put it back into place herself... The thought made her feel sick. The thought of her shoulder being clicked back into place. She knew it was going to hurt. But it couldn't hurt anymore than her heart did, the pain of being hurt and deceived by someone she thought cared about her.

It was a terrible coincidence that Doctor John Watson, who was now a general surgeon at the hospital, was walking through the ward that night.

He walked past her at first, but then stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly. He looked at her with a puzzled expression. "Molly? What are you doing here?" he asked, "Are you hurt?"

"I, er, tripped over," she lied, "I-I've hurt my shoulder."

It was difficult to say '_I've_ hurt my shoulder' when the truth was _Robert_hurt her shoulder.

"Oh, right," John paused for a second, looking around the ward to make sure no one was watching, "Do you want me to take a look?"

"I-it's okay," Molly said clumsily, "T-they said the doctor would be here any second... I mean, you're a doctor, but you're not really specialised in... It's okay, I can wait." She hit herself inwardly for making a fool of herself.

"I suppose," John sounded unsure, "And I've got to be in theatre soon anyway so, er... See you soon, I guess."

Molly breathed a sigh of relief as he walked off down the corridor. She was almost certain that he would tell Sherlock, which was kind of a good thing.

* * *

It was a long and excruciating wait for another doctor to arrive. Eventually, a woman in blue scrubs came over.

"Right, love," she said, smiling at Molly in an almost sickly sweet way, "Why don't you go and lie down and I'll take a look at that shoulder?"

She led Molly to one of the ward beds. As Molly sat down, the doctor shut the curtains. For some reason this made Molly feel more exposed.

"What's your name, love?" the woman asked.

"M-Molly. Molly Hooper."

"Now, Molly, are you going to tell me what happened for you to get such a painful injury?"

Molly could have screamed. This woman was driving her crazy. "I-I tripped and fell down the stairs," she said, making an effort to sound like she was telling the truth, "It was just a stupid accident. I wasn't looking where I was going and..."

"I understand, love," the doctor cut in, "It happens to all of us. Now, let me have a look at that."

She examined Molly's shoulder, making her gasp whenever she pressed a bit too hard.

"Yes, it's dislocated. We're going to have to put it back. Let me just go and get Doctor Cassidy."

Molly presumed Doctor Cassidy was an orthopaedic consultant. She was right. Doctor Cassidy and the female doctor (who she still didn't know the name of) came back over to the bed and both smiled at Molly in exactly the same way.

"Right, Molly, you're going to have to be brave now," Doctor Cassidy said, as if talking to a child, "This is going to hurt."

Without warning, he forced her shoulder back into its correct position. Molly gasped in pain and closed her eyes tight.

"All better!" said the other doctor, "Let me just go and get your discharge papers and then you can be on your way."

* * *

When Molly was finally discharged, she made her way to the morgue. Her shoulder still hurt, but it wasn't as bad now. She didn't want to go home. She wanted to be alone. Her flat was pretty lonely, but her neighbours argued often and Toby always followed her around. Right now she needed her own company. She needed time to think.

She walked inside and, without bothering to flick on the lights, made her way into the corner of the room. She leaned against the wall and sobbed quietly to herself. This was going to be a long night.

"You shouldn't be here."

Molly gasped upon hearing his voice. She couldn't see him anywhere. He seemed to do that - hide silently in the darkness, like a lion about to jump out at it's prey.

"Y-you shouldn't be here either." she whispered.

"There must be a reason that you're here, though," the intruder continued, "It's the middle of the night, and here you are, in a dark, cold morgue, crying over something that happened earlier on tonight."

Molly nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her.

"I'm guessing it had something to do with that _boyfriend_of yours," he said the word 'boyfriend' as if it was something truly terrible, "Am I right?"

The woman sniffled. "Yes. Yes, you are."

The room was suddenly filled with light and she saw him, standing by the door with a half-furious, half-rueful expression. His pale grey eyes seemed to shine with determination, and his alabaster skin looked paler than ever in the white light.

"He hurt you, didn't he?"

Molly closed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears. That man knew _everything_.

"My first clue was when you lied to me about your black-eye," he told her, "And then when I met him earlier on today... I knew something was wrong. The way you flinched when he touched you, like you thought he was about to hurt you. The look on your face told me everything I needed to know."

There was silence for a few seconds, as Molly thought about everything he had just said. It was all true. There was no point lying anymore.

"I don't... I never wanted this to happen." she wept.

Sherlock started to walk towards her, his hands behind his back. "I know," he said, "And you don't deserve this, Molly."

"It's all... It's all my fault. I-I should have just listened to him. I should never have..." she

He kneeled down beside her and cupped her chin in his hands, lifting her head up so she could look him in the eye. "Listen to me, Molly Hooper, this isn't your fault. None of this is your fault. You deserve better than this."

Sherlock used the back of his hand to wipe away some of her tears. He planted a soft kiss on her forehead and then stood up. "I'm going to find Robert and I'm going to make sure he pays for this."

He started to walk away, but Molly jumped up and grabbed hold of his arm, forcing him to turn around.

"Please don't, Sherlock," she pleaded, "Please, just... Don't do this. You'll regret it."

"No I won't."

"Yes you will! You'll get into trouble because of me and... I don't want that to happen."

Sherlock stood still for a second, contemplating. This man needed to be punished, but he didn't want to upset Molly further. She had been through enough already.

He embraced her and she leant against him, crying even harder. She had never seen Sherlock act so... human. The events of the Reichenbach Fall had most certainly changed him for the better.

* * *

**I haven't got anything to say apart from thank you for reading. Again.**


	7. A Magical Moment

**Hello folks! Really sorry for the delay in posting. I've been back to school so I haven't had much time. I hate school sometimes. Apart from those occasions when I get to include Sherlock related stuff in my work... which is always, somehow. :)**

**Anyway, this is chapter seven and I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review if you like it or there are any mistakes. I noticed a stupid mistake in chapter two where I put 'red lipstick' instead of 'red wine' lol... Never mind.**

* * *

Sherlock hailed a cab for the two of them, and instructed the driver to take them to 221B.

"You're staying at Baker Street tonight," he told her, "I'm not leaving you on your own when that... psychopath is still out there."

Molly looked down at her knees and frowned. "He's not a psychopath," she said quietly, "He just... I dunno, he just has anger issues, I guess. It's not his fault."

"Molly, you don't have to stand up for him. He isn't going to hurt you anymore."

She looked up at her companion with wide, trusting eyes. "Do you promise? Do you promise you won't let him hurt me?"

"I promise."

* * *

They arrived at Baker Street a while later. Sherlock led Molly inside, without saying a word, and they silently walked upstairs to his flat. Sherlock hung his coat and scarf on the coat stand, before helping Molly with her coat, careful not to hurt her already tender shoulder.

"You need to get some sleep," said the lanky detective, "You can sleep in my bed. It's far more comfortable than the sofa and it's not as if I'm going to be doing much sleeping anyway."

"W-what about John?" Molly asked, not making eye contact.

"He's at work. Night shift - won't be back 'til early morning," Molly remembered seeing John at Bart's earlier, so that kind of made sense, "I'll explain everything to him when he arrives."

"I-I don't..." she struggled to find the right words, "Can you not tell him? Please? Can it just... C-can we just keep this between you and me?"

Sherlock nodded and smiled. "Of course."

Molly smiled back gratefully. "G-goodnight, then, I guess."

"Goodnight Molly."

Molly wandered towards Sherlock's bedroom. When she opened the door, her nose was filled with an aroma that somehow made her feel warm and relaxed. It was the scent of Sherlock, and right now that was the nicest smell on earth.

It was only when she saw the bed (Sherlock's bed - she tried not to think about that too much) that she realised that she didn't have any night-wear.

"Sh-Sherlock?" she called.

"Yes, Molly?"

To her surprise, he was standing right in the doorway. His voice caused her to start. "Oh, I-I don't have any pyjamas..."

"Not to worry. I'd be happy to let you borrow one of my shirts." he replied.

Molly stood in silence for a moment, her eyes wide open with surprise. _He just offered to let me wear his shirt. Sherlock Holmes just offered to let me wear his shirt and I'm going to sleep in his bed._

"Molly?"

"Hm? Yeah? Oh, right, s-sure. That's... fine. Good, yes. I'll, er, wear... that." her words came out faster than she would have liked.

Sherlock opened his wardrobe and selected one of his signature deep plum shirts. He smoothed it out and lay it on the end of the bed. Molly smiled awkwardly at him, and he took the hint to leave.

She squealed quietly before calming herself down. She was beginning to forget about the events that had occurred earlier on tonight. She was so giddy it felt like she was still drunk, even though she was now sober. Of course, she still remembered everything that Robert had done, but now she felt safe. She felt safe because she was with Sherlock.

Molly slipped her phone out of her pocket before changing and checked for any missed texts or called. She had three new messages:

**Molly, I'm sorry. Forgive me? - Robert**

She could have scoffed when she saw the message. The next one was from him as well.

**Where are you? Are you okay? I'm really sorry. Let me make it up to you. - Robert**

Molly shook her head in disbelief and looked at the last message.

**Hello Molly, it's John. Just checking you're okay. I'm always here if you need to talk. - JW**

The pathologist smiled and typed her reply.

**Hi John. I'm fine, really I am. Thanks for your concern. - Molly x**

"Molly? Are you ready yet?" Sherlock called from the living room.

"J-just, hold on a second!"

Molly quickly put her phone down on the bedside table and picked up the purple silk shirt. She tried to undo the zip of her dress, with lots of difficulty. It hurt her shoulder too much.

Suddenly, the door swung open and Molly gasped as Sherlock entered.

"Would you like a hand?" he offered.

She bit her lip and nodded. "Y-yes please."

Sherlock unfastened the zip slowly and let the dress fall onto the floor. Molly swallowed hard and turned around, using the shirt to hide her body, even though it barely covered her. The look on Sherlock's face was unreadable. He stared at her for a few seconds, focussing on her face, her chest and then her thighs... He shook his head.

"Er, would you..." he cleared his throat, "Would you like some help with that too?"

Molly smiled gratefully. "T-thanks."

"My pleasure."

The detective took the shirt off her, leaving Molly partly exposed. She stood awkwardly as he undid the shirt and slipped it over her shoulders. She was about to fasten the buttons herself, until she felt Sherlock's arms wrap around her. He started to fasten the shirt buttons. Occasionally his fingers brushed over Molly's skin and she felt a tingle run down her spine. She couldn't help leaning back a little into his arms. When he had finished doing up the shirt, he slid his hands down to her waist and rested them there. She could feel his warm breath on her neck.

"Sherlock..." she said quietly. There was no response, and so she stood there and let him embrace her. It was... well, magical.

Her phone suddenly beeped and Molly jumped slightly, making Sherlock release his grip. She picked up her phone again and checked her messages.

She sighed when she saw that it was only John acknowledging her previous text.

_You choose your moments, John Watson, _she thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

* * *

**That's it! Thanks for reading again, guys. Sorry for the lame ending. I just love the whole Molly wearing Sherlock's shirt thing. Mmm... Maybe the rating will go up at some point...? NO! I have no experience writing that sort of thing and I'm far too immature... I dunno, let's wait and see ;)**


	8. Light

**Not got much to say other than thanks for reading.**

* * *

Sherlock sat silently, leaning against his bedroom door. He could hear Molly breathing softly as she slept. It gave him a sense of comfort to know that she was safe and well. He smiled to himself, thinking about her. Her silky brown hair, her dark doe eyes, her petite figure...

He realised, of course, that this wasn't the end. Despite Molly's plea for him to leave Robert in peace, he was obviously not going to stand back and get away with what he had done. If it was someone else, maybe. But not Molly. Molly did not deserve this, and for some reason Sherlock felt like it was his duty to protect her.

He stood up and straightened his suit jacket. He grabbed his coat and scarf and made his way down the staircase, careful to avoid the particularly creaky steps. He felt bad about leaving her on her own, but he had to sort this out. He wasn't going to let that _awful_man get away with this.

Once he had shut the door, he hailed a cab and told the driver to take him to Robert's flat. Molly hadn't told him his address, but he knew his full name and was able to find out from Mycroft.

Sherlock checked his watch: 04:14. He had just under an hour before John arrived back home. If John got to Baker Street and discovered that Molly was there, there would be a lot of explaining to do. Sherlock didn't want to let Molly down - this was their little secret. He knew it was wrong, and he knew he should call Lestrade, but he felt like this would be betraying her, somehow.

* * *

When he arrived, Sherlock paid the cabby with a large tip and asked him to wait. He happily obliged.

Sherlock made his way over to the front door and knocked gently. The door opened almost immediately.

"Moll..." Robert began, but stopped when he looked up and saw none other than Sherlock Holmes down glaring at him.

"She's in a terrible state, you know," said Sherlock, his voice dripping with poison, "Nasty bruising, swollen lips, dislocated shoulder... I wonder how that could have happened."

Robert clenched his fists. "That's none of your business." He tried to make his voice sound as calm as possible.

"I'm afraid Molly doesn't see it that way."

"Where is she?"

Sherlock let out a dry laugh. "Why on earth would I tell you that, Doctor Henderson?" Even the name made his blood boil.

"Because she's my girlfriend and I care about her."

The tall man's face turned deadly serious. "No," he spat, "You don't care about her. You're just using her to get what you want, and hurting her in the process."

Robert raised a fist in rage. He was about to punch Sherlock, but the detective caught his fist in his strong hand.

"Leave her alone or I swear I'll..." He took a breath.

"Or you'll what?" inquired Robert.

"I'll kill you."

The two men stared at each other for a few seconds. Sherlock's ice cold eyes were filled with anger and Robert could tell that this man was capable of anything. He took a few steps backwards and nodded curtly.

"Fine," he said, "I'll break up with her, then, shall I?"

"No, don't even talk to her. Don't go near her ever again. Do you understand me?"

Robert nodded again.

"Goodnight, Doctor Henderson. I severely hope we do not meet again."

* * *

Molly woke to the sound of the front door shutting loudly. She stood up hesitantly, gulped, and made her way into the kitchen. She couldn't see anything, as it was almost pitch black.

"Sherlock?" she called out cautiously. There was no response. She tried again. "Sherlock, is that you?"

There was a sinister sort of silence lingering in the air. Molly slowly walked into the living room and took a seat in Sherlock's armchair. She wrapped her arms around her knees and waited.

Suddenly the room was filled with light. Molly squinted and blinked a few times. She shook her head and tried to come to her senses.

"Molly, what's wrong? Are you alright?" asked Sherlock, panicked, as he knelt down in front of her. She nodded and he let out a deep breath. "I was getting worried." he told her.

"Sherlock, w-where have you been?" she asked, even though she knew what the answer would be.

"I... I went to see someone." he replied.

"Robert. You went to see Robert."

Sherlock closed his eyes for a second and nodded. "I'm sorry," he told her, "But I didn't have a choice."

Molly sighed. "No, it's fine, I understand. You didn't... You didn't hurt him, did you?"

"Of course not. I threatened him, that's all."

"W-what if he tells the police?"

"Molly, I'm sure I won't be prosecuted for threatening a man who has committed much more severe crimes."

That was the first time Molly had thought of it as a crime. In retrospect, that's exactly what it was, and she should have done something sooner. But it felt weird calling Robert a criminal. He had seemed like such a nice guy when they first met. And he worked on the children's ward for God's sake!

"Sherlock..." Molly took a second to think of the right words, "Why do you think... he... did what he did?"

"I don't know, Molly," Sherlock answered truthfully, "People do things for different reasons. But I simply do not understand why anyone would even _think_about hurting such an innocent, sweet and loving person such as yourself. You are by far the most trustworthy person I have ever known, and it is wrong that this man thinks he can take advantage of your loyal and forgiving nature. If I was your boyfriend, I would treat you a lot better."

Molly could feel her eyes brimming with tears. That was the nicest thing Sherlock Holmes had ever said.

"But you won't ever be my boyfriend." she added as an afterthought. She saw the hurt expression on Sherlock's face. He reached out and stroked her cheekbone, where the pale purple bruise was beginning to fade.

"Don't be so pessimistic, Molly Hooper." he said quietly.

Sherlock stood up and reached out a hand to her. She accepted and he hoisted her up. She stumbled slightly, and almost fell right into him. He caught her by the arms and supported her.

Molly felt her heart start to race. She looked up into his pale blue eyes. They reflected the light like diamonds, and twinkled like stars. Sherlock gazed down at Molly and noticed that her pupils had dilated, despite the light in the room.

He slid a hand into his jacket pocket, pulled out his phone and sent a text to his loyal friend John:

**Don't come to 221B. Experiment in progress. SH**

* * *

**Dum dum dum! Cliffhanger! I'm going to have to write about this experiment now oh dear... Thanks for reading once again. See you soon chaps!**


	9. Experiment in Progress

**I was listening to Muse's new album whilst writing this. My 'ma' wants to listen to it so I have to as well. Thanks, mother, your taste in music really helps my story. Not really. But it's cool music. And I heard the words 'stay alive' which reminded me of Jimmy and made me smile. Forgive my lack of medical knowledge... Apparently you should wear a sling when your shoulder is dislocated but my ever-so-helpful mother said she watched a film and they didn't wear a sling so... In your face Wikipedia! This is the land of fiction, and anything is possible!**

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Molly opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by Sherlock raising a hand.

"No talking." he said. She nodded, never taking her eyes off his. His pupils were, she could tell, dilated. It made her heart skip a beat. Obviously his large pupils had nothing to do with the lighting.

They both stood there for a while, staring intently at each other. Sherlock suddenly realised how lovely she looked. Her chestnut hair was loose and ringlets sat perfectly on her shoulders. She was no longer wearing any make-up. Her face was completely natural, which was something Sherlock rarely got to see. And he liked it. Of course he did; she looked breathtaking.

Molly had seen Sherlock's beautiful (yes, beautiful) face many times before, but tonight he just looked amazing. His perfect pink lips were open slightly, as if he was deep in thought. His eyes seemed bluer than ever. She imagined running her fingers through his soft locks as they kissed... _No, that's never going to happen. Never in a million years. It would be a miracle if it did._

But suddenly, despite Molly's thoughts, it was happening. She was kissing Sherlock Holmes. And he was kissing her. In fact, he was the one who had made the move in the first place. It took her by surprise, but after a few seconds she came to her senses.

Molly lifted up her good arm and placed her hand on the back of Sherlock's head, running her fingers through his hair. It was just as soft as she had imagined, if not softer. He placed his own hands on her waist, sliding them round to her back. Molly closed her eyes as they kissed. She had wanted this for so long and now it was finally happening. She let a quiet moan escape her mouth as Sherlock's teeth grazed her lips. He pulled away for just a second, as if getting his breath back, but they were kissing again within a matter of seconds.

This was a new experience for Sherlock, and most certainly a pleasant one. He hadn't realised until now - until this whole Robert incident how much Molly meant to him. He sighed as Molly gently bit his bottom lip.

"Molly... I..."

"No talking, remember?" Molly interjected. Sherlock nodded and they continued.

* * *

John Watson had just got in a cab when he read his text from Sherlock. He raised an eyebrow, before asking the driver to take him to Baker Street. He was used to Sherlock's antics now - there was absolutely nothing wasn't prepared for. And besides, this was just an experiment. It couldn't be _that_ important.

* * *

Sherlock suddenly pulled away from Molly. She looked up at him in confusion.

"Molly... Bedroom... Now." he panted. From the surprised look on her face he could tell she had the wrong impression. "Someone is... coming... upstairs."

Molly, finally understanding, quietly made her way into Sherlock's bedroom.

Sherlock took a deep breath and turned around to see John standing in the doorway.

"John... I told you not to... come here..." Sherlock said in between breaths.

"Yeah, sorry, I only just got your text," the doctor lied, "Are you okay? You sound a bit out of breath."

"Oh, I'm... fine, just... You know."

John nodded vacantly. There was a look of suspicion in his eyes. "I, er... I bumped into Molly at Bart's."

"Oh, did you?" the consulting detective tried to sound surprised, "Not surprising, really. She works there, afterall."

"Well, actually, she was in A&E," John scratched the back of his head, "Hurt her arm or something."

"Oh, um, is she okay?"

"She's fine, I think. Seemed a bit shook up by something. Maybe we should check on her at some point?"

"I'm sure she'll be fine, John. No need to worry yourself."

* * *

Molly could hear Sherlock and John talking about her. She leaned against the door, listening to their conversation.

It was comforting, in a way, to know that Sherlock was lying for her. She really didn't want everyone knowing about this.

But now Robert was the last thing on her mind. She couldn't stop thinking about Sherlock. Sherlock _kissed_ her. _Sherlock Holmes_ kissed _her_.

* * *

"I'm not sure, Sherlock," persisted John, "There was something wrong - I could just sense it."

"John, we can hardly rely on your sixth sense to determine what is wrong with her," Sherlock retorted, "She's fine."

John furrowed his brow. "How can you be so sure?" No answer. "Sherlock? Do you know something?"

"It has absolutely nothing to do with you, John Watson, so stop asking." he snapped. He started to walk over to his bedroom but John caught him by the arm.

"Where are you going?" he inquired.

"Bed. I have to sleep, John."

"I thought you were doing an experiment."

"I am. Now leave me in peace."

Sherlock stormed off and left John feeling a little confused. He made his way upstairs to his own bedroom and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Sherlock waited for a second, listening intently.

"John's asleep." he confirmed, when he heard the snoring coming from upstairs. Molly nodded and he took a seat on the bed next to her. "He's a heavy sleeper. I did tell him to tell him not to come..."

"I know, I heard," Molly said with a sigh, "It's okay."

She put her head on his shoulder and he put an arm around her, careful not to touch her sore shoulder. "You're right. He probably saved us a load of hassle."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, it would be most inconvenient if you hurt your shoulder a second time."

Molly giggled quietly. "And how would I manage to do that, Sherlock?" she asked, smiling at him. He didn't answer, just grinned mischievously.

"Come on, Miss Hooper, it's about time you got some more rest."

They stood up together. Sherlock helped Molly into bed, changed into his pyjamas and climbed in beside her. Molly averted her eyes, blushing profusely as he took off his clothes. He lay next to her and she rested her head on his chest.

Sherlock smiled to himself as she drifted off to sleep. She looked so peaceful when she was sleeping.

"Goodnight Molly." he whispered, and then fell asleep as well.

* * *

**That's the end of chapter nine! So, yes, I decided that the 'experiment' would just be kissing, but I have no experience in writing all that 'other stuff.' And Molly's poor shoulder! It's going to be a bit awkward when John wakes up and Molly's there... So what will Sherlock do? You'll have to wait and see, my darlings! Sorry for any disappointment regarding the experiment. It was just too awkward because of Molly's darn shoulder! It will come soon, I promise :)**


	10. Waking Up

**Hola amigos! Sorry for the late update. I've been busy with school... Ergh school. I hate school. Ergh.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading! :D**

* * *

When Molly woke up, it took her a while to realise that she wasn't still dreaming. She was, in fact, in bed with Sherlock. Her heard started thumping rapidly and she couldn't help but stare at the sleeping figure beside her. He looked so perfect when he slept. For once he looked vulnerable - it was an unusual thing for Sherlock to be, because normally Molly would regard him as the strongest and bravest man she had ever known.

He had his arm around her, which didn't help her ever-increasing heart rate. She tried to wriggle away, but Sherlock pulled her around so they were facing each other. Their noses were less than an inch apart.

Molly stared wide-eyed at him. His own eyes opened and he looked at her intently. They were both locked in each other's gaze, unable to look away - unable to do _anything_.

"Sherlock?" called a familiar female voice from outside the bedroom door. Sherlock raised a finger to his lips, gesturing for Molly to be quiet, and made his way out of bed and to the door. He opened it ever so slightly, so his visitor wouldn't be able to see inside.

"Yes, Mrs Hudson, what now?" he inquired impatiently.

"I was just checking if you were awake," the frail old lady replied, "Would you like a cup of tea?"

The detective looked at her incredulously. "You disturbed me to ask me _that_?"

"I'm sorry if I woke you, but I presumed you'd be up."

"It's alright," Sherlock responded with a false smile, "A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you."

He closed the door on her, not even bothering to wait for an answer. Molly, who was now sat up in bed, looked up at him worriedly.

"How am I going to get out unnoticed?" she whispered.

"You don't need to. Don't worry, I'll make up a suitable excuse."

"But Sherlock..." Molly continued, "I-I'm wearing your shirt. And the only clothes I have here are my dress and shoes. How do I explain that?"

"We'll think of something." Sherlock assured her, his voice firm but affectionate. He took his blue silk dressing gown from the back of the door and threw it to her. "Now, let's go and get some tea."

Molly put on his dressing gown, making sure it covered her enough. Then she gingerly walked towards him and, together, they made there way into the living room. They passed through the kitchen, but Mrs Hudson didn't seem to notice Molly.

"Morning, Sher..." John began, turning around and looking up from his armchair. He looked at the mousey woman with confusion. "Hello Molly."

"H-hello John." Molly replied with a nervous smile.

"I agreed to let Molly stay here for the night," Sherlock told his friend with a poker-face, "Her flat has lost power and her landlord says it won't be fixed until later on this morning."

"Oh, that's fine. Um, yeah, stay as long as you need," John grinned at Molly kindly, "Honestly, ir's er... It's fine."

"I-I've got to go to work soon anyway so I won't be here for too long." she said.

"I think it's lovely that you've let her stay, Sherlock," Mrs Hudson said, walking into the room with four cups of tea. John didn't know how she managed to carry them all at the same time. "You're a real gentleman." she continued.

"Anything to help a friend." Sherlock replied, smiling at Molly.

Mrs Hudson placed the cups down on the coffee table and turned to face Molly. "You take a seat, dear. Have your cuppa. Make yourself at home."

Molly smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Mrs Hudson." She anxiously made her way to the sofa and took a seat. Sherlock, to John's surprise, decided to sit next to her, rather than in his armchair. It was Mrs Hudson who took a seat in his usual spot.

"So," John said, "You two slept together?"

Molly gasped and blushed profusely.

"No! Well, yes. But we didn't... It was just... We didn't actually..." she trailed off.

"It was purely platonic." Sherlock said.

"Right," John cast them both a friendly smile, "That's fine."

* * *

Once the group had finished their tea, Molly changed back into her dress and heels (John couldn't help but stare, but he shook his head and reminded himself he was currently in a relationship) and made her way downstairs with Sherlock.

"I-I'll have to go home and get changed before I go to work." she told him.

"Would you like me to come with you?" he asked with a worried expression.

"N-no, it's fine," replied Molly, smiling, "I-I'll be fine. Of course I'll be fine."

"If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

Sherlock placed a hand on her arm. She flinched slightly and he pulled away quickly. "Your shoulder?" he inquired.

Molly nodded. "It's still a bit sore. It will be okay."

"You should have kept the sling on."

The pathologist gulped. "I-I would have, I just didn't... People would talk."

"People do little else."

Molly giggled quietly. "I suppose that's true," she said, "But still, I wouldn't want people to talk about me behind my back."

"You don't have to worry about that now. And you don't have to worry about Robert." Sherlock paused. "If he even dares..."

"It's okay, Sherlock, I'll call you if I need a hand."

The detective nodded and smiled forlornly. "Make sure you do. Now, you better get going. You know what traffic's like."

* * *

After arriving home, taking a shower, feeding Toby and changing into more suitable clothing, Molly rushed to St Bart's. She was already late, but she could always make up time later. It's not as if she had lives to save.

The day went by relatively smoothly. She didn't see Robert at all, which was a good thing, although she felt a bit guilty. She didn't know why. She knew he didn't deserve her, but she still felt bad for breaking up with him. Not that they had officially spilt, of course.

She didn't see Sherlock, either, but that didn't matter. The memories of last night were vivid and seemed to brighten her otherwise mundane day.

* * *

Toby nuzzled against his mistress affectionately as she returned home, carrying a couple of plastic _Tesco _bags.

"Yes, hello Toby, nice to see you too." Molly said with a chuckle. She went over to the kitchen and placed the bags on the countertop. Then, she walked into the living room and slumped down on the sofa, sighing.

Toby jumped onto her lap and she stroked his soft fur whilst staring vacantly out of the window. "So much has happened in the last few days," she said, more to herself than the cat, "All this stuff with Robert... And Sherlock. Oh, I can't believe that he kissed me! I've always dreamt about it, but it was so much better than the dreams. So much better..." She trailed off and smiled to herself as Toby let out a content 'meow'.

* * *

**Lame chapter ending! I just had to include more Toby cute-ness. Honestly, he is the best cat in the world. Again, sorry for the late update. Please review if you liked and see you soon, mes copains! :)**


	11. Watching the Sun Set

**Hello again and thank you for reading! :)**

* * *

The weeks passed, and Molly didn't see Robert at all, despite the fact that they worked in the same building. Sherlock seemed to be avoiding her for some reason. Maybe he was embarrassed because of the kiss? Molly supposed this could be true, but Sherlock Holmes didn't seem the type to get embarrassed.

It was her thirty-fourth birthday (she felt _really_ old) and she was beginning to think that everyone had forgotten about her. She never usually got gifts, just a few cards from her mother and close friends. But this year she hadn't received anything.

It was either extremely good or terribly bad luck that Sherlock decided to show up on today of all days.

Molly smiled at him sweetly as he walked over to her. "Hi Sherlock," she said, "M-my shift just finished, but I can stay if you need to use the lab."

"No, no, that won't be necessary." Sherlock replied, grinning at her. He had a few beads of sweat on his forehead and he looked nervous. "It's your birthday today, isn't it?" he asked, although he knew the answer already.

"Y-yeah, that's right."

"Um, it's just that... I was wondering, would you like to have dinner?"

Molly stared up at him and blinked. "Dinner? Today? W-with you?" she inquired, clumsily stumbling over her words, "I-I would... That would be great."

Sherlock relaxed and smiled. "Good."

* * *

"Sherlock, where are we going?" Molly asked quietly once they were inside the cab. Her nerves were getting the better with her. Sherlock Holmes had asked her out to dinner. On her birthday.

He cast her an enigmatic smile. "You'll find out soon enough."

* * *

"Are we here?" Molly inquired, as the two of them got out of the taxi.

"Close enough." Sherlock replied, paying the cabby.

Molly vaguely recognised the area. The route they had taken was almost the same route that she would take to get to Baker Street, so she figured they must be nearby. However, instead of tall buildings, she was surrounded by tall trees and an intricately detailed fence. The road was relatively quiet. If she peered over the tall, iron fence, Molly could see colourful flowers, huge trees and lush green grass in all directions.

"This is Regent's Park." she said.

Sherlock smiled. "Excellent observation, Molly." he responded.

"I thought you said we were having dinner?"

"We are."

Molly furrowed her brows in confusion. She was about to reply, but Sherlock spoke first.

"I've been planning this for some time," he said, directing her through the entrance, "I really hope you enjoy it."

* * *

Sherlock led Molly down the gravel path, holding her hand. There were butterflies in her stomach and she couldn't help but smile. She came to an abrupt halt and Sherlock looked at her, puzzled.

"Seriously, where are we going?" she asked, chuckling.

"A nice little spot by the water's edge." her companion informed her.

"But what about dinner?" she questioned, "What are we going to do? Catch a fish and eat that?"

Sherlock let out a chuckle. "Have some patience, Molly, you'll see soon."

They continued on their journey, arm in arm. Molly peered over her shoulder as they crossed a small, wooden bridge. The scene was beautiful. There were trees surrounding the water, all different shades of green.

"This is beautiful." she said quietly.

Sherlock smiled at her. "I thought you would like it."

* * *

It was only a short walk to their destination - a small, grassy area, right by the water. Molly looked down and saw a white blanket laid out on the ground, covered in rose petals and sheltered by a tree. There was a wicker basket in the centre of the blanket, with a red ribbon tied into a bow on the handles.

Molly put a hand to her mouth and turned to face the consulting detective.

"Sherlock," she said, her eyes filling with tears, "You did all this for me?"

"Yes, I did," Sherlock replied. He sounded worried. "What's the matter? Why are you crying? Do you not like it?"

"No, no! I love it. It's beautiful, it really is. I just... I can't believe that you would do this... For _me_."

"You deserve it, Molly Hooper," Sherlock held out his hand and wiped the tears from her eyes, "You deserve this and so much more." He smiled at her and she smiled back. "So, shall we?"

Molly nodded eagerly and beamed at him. He took hold of her hand and helped her over the low fence. They both took a seat on the blanket. Sherlock untied the bow and slowly opened the picnic basket. He took out cutlery for himself and Molly, as well as two china plates.

"I had to bring these. I can't stand plastic crockery." he told her.

Molly laughed. "You're so predictable, Sherlock," she replied, "Well, not _really_. I would never have predicted you would do _this_."

Sherlock whistled and suddenly a teenage boy appeared, carrying a bottle of red wine.

"A glass of wine, Miss?" he asked in a Cockney accent. Molly nodded and smiled at the boy. Sherlock produced two wine glasses and let him pour them both a glass.

"Oh, Sherlock," Molly said, smiling, "You've gone to so much trouble."

"It's nothing."

"No, it _isn't_ nothing," she continued, "It's _everything_. Honestly, Sherlock, this means the world to me."

The teenager handed Molly her glass, then gave Sherlock's his. He placed the bottle down by the basket of food.

"This is _wonderful._" she said, as the boy vanished again.

"I know how much you like red wine." Sherlock told her.

He started to get the food out of the basket. He handed Molly a packet of salted crisps and a couple of egg and cress sandwiches - her favourites.

"Sherlock, you know I love you, don't you?" she said quietly, looking down at the food on her plate.

"The feeling is mutual."

Molly looked up slowly and their gaze met. "Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do," Sherlock responded, "Now, eat up. We have just over an hour until this place closes."

* * *

The sun started to set just as Molly finished her food and wine. The sky turned a lovely pale orange colour. The water was still, and there didn't seem to be anybody nearby.

"Sherlock," Molly began, as he poured them both another glass of wine, "This has been the best birthday ever."

"It isn't over yet." told Sherlock.

He moved the basket out of the way and lay down on the blanket, facing the water. Molly lay beside him and he put an arm around her. She leaned against his shoulder and he took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of her hair.

"It's a beautiful view." she said calmly.

"Yes it is," Sherlock responded, "A beautiful view. Almost as beautiful as you."

Molly let out a laugh. "Oh, you certainly know how to flatter a girl, Sherlock Holmes."

"But you _are_ beautiful, Molly Hooper," he said, "You are a truly beautiful person."

"So are you. Even with all of your quirks."

Sherlock chuckled and pulled her a little closer. "I'm not beautiful, Molly."

"You _are_!"

"Well, if you say so."

They lay in silence for a while, watching the sun disappear.

* * *

**Ta da! I hope you enjoyed that, cause I certainly enjoyed writing it! I thought having a picnic was a cute idea. Regent's Park - lovely place. More of Molly's birthday stuff later. Thanks for reading :)**


	12. After Dinner

**Thank you so** **so so so much to everyone who left a review! They were all really lovely. **

**I'm _really_ sorry for the massive delay in posting! I've just been so busy! (blame my teachers)**

**This is a short chapter. Prepare to be disappointed.**

**So this is the second part of Molly's birthday 'dinner'. Hope you enjoy it :)**

* * *

"Sherlock, you okay?" Molly asked worriedly. They were on their way to her flat and he had barely spoken for the entire journey. He seemed to be lost in thought - in a world of his own. "Sherlock?" she tried again.

"Hmm? What? Yes, oh, right, yes, I'm fine." he replied quickly.

"Are you sure?" his companion persisted, "You're a bit quiet."

"I'm just thinking." he told her.

Molly looked down and bit her lip. She fiddled with the buttons on her blouse, trying to distract herself by thinking of something other than Sherlock. Of course, this was an impossible task. She often found herself daydreaming about the consulting detective, and it was hard to stop. Now she couldn't stop thinking about their evening together. It had been perfect. She wondered if this was the end of her birthday treat, or if Sherlock had something else in mind. It would explain why he was so deep in thought but... She was probably getting ahead of herself.

* * *

The cab pulled up and Sherlock paid the fare. He helped Molly out, like a true gentleman, and they walked over to the front door, hand in hand. Molly unlocked the door and stepped inside. As Sherlock followed her in, Toby appeared beside them and brushed against the detective's leg, purring happily.

"Hello Toby." Sherlock said, grimacing slightly. Molly let out a chuckle.

"I think he's missed you," she told Sherlock, "Ever since you moved back to Baker Street, he's been acting a little strangely."

He reached down and petted the feline, before moving into the small kitchen. He stared out of the window, silent and still.

"Sherlock...?" Molly took a few cautious strides towards him, "W-what are you doing?"

He turned around swiftly to face her. His face was expressionless - impossible to read.

"For the past few weeks I've been thinking," he began, "Thinking about you. Ever since I found out about... _Robert_," he gritted his teeth as he said the name, "I've realised exactly how much I care about you."

Molly looked down and smiled. "You said something like that," she replied quietly, "At the park, I told you that I love you and you said the feeling is mutual. I thought that I must be dreaming."

"I _do_ though," Sherlock said, taking a step forwards, "I've never truly loved anyone before in my life, but... I don't know, I just couldn't imagine my world without you. And after what happened at the flat, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

The shy pathologist looked up slowly, her lips parted slightly. She locked eyes with him, her gaze so intense and meaningful that Sherlock was unable to say anything.

Molly walked towards him, never averting her gaze from his beautiful blue eyes. She placed her hands on his shoulders, shut her eyes and leaned towards him.

Sherlock closed his eyes as Molly's lips met his own. He returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her closer to him.

Molly felt a wave of heat rush through her body as they kissed. She let out a muffled moan and her opened her mouth slightly, allowing their tongues to meet, and they explored each other's mouths.

The kiss lasted for a while, until eventually Molly pulled away. She rested her forehead against his for a few seconds, getting her breath back, and then kissed him again, this time biting his tongue gently so he let out another moan.

Sherlock let his hands slide under Molly's blouse, stroking her soft skin. She felt a shiver of pleasure run through her. She moved her hands down and started to unbutton his shirt.

The detective felt something that he had never felt before in his life. It was difficult to describe, but he most certainly did not want it to end.

"Sh-Sherlock," Molly said shakily. He could feel her hands trembling, because of her nerves, probably.

Sherlock leaned forward and kissed her again, to stop her from talking. As much as he loved the sweet sound of her voice, right now he just wanted to be close to her.

They kissed for another few minutes, and then Sherlock took hold of Molly's hand and led her into the bedroom.

* * *

**I'm sorry for having such a short chapter. I'm sorry I didn't write about them having 'dinner', but I've never written anything like that before and I'm way too young anyway lol :). I'm sowwy! I'm too immature! Anyway, see you soon folks! Reviews appreciated!**


	13. A Different Person

**Hello everybody! So here is chapter thirteen (hope it's not cursed). This is the morning after Sherlock and Molly had 'dinner'. I'm sorry I didn't write that scene but I lack maturity _and_ experience so it's not really my area. Anyway, thanks for everyone's reviews. It means a lot to me. I wouldn't do this if people didn't like reading my stuff. Here goes...**

* * *

Sherlock Holmes did not want to get out of bed.

He was a late riser anyway - had been ever since a young age - but normally he couldn't stand to just lie there. He had to _do_ something. He had to entertain himself with something other than his own thoughts.

But this wasn't a normal morning, and he did not want to get up.

As he lay with Molly beside him, their bodies touching, he felt like he could stay here for ever. Last night had been... _amazing_. The picnic in itself was a wonderful experience - a chance to get to know the _real_ Molly Hooper. She had been so _open_ with him. Usually she couldn't look him in the eye without blushing. But last night she had almost been a different person. Once tentative and quiet, she had become confident and for once she seemed happy. Genuinely happy. He could tell that her smile had been real.

When they arrived at her flat, his mind was a whirlwind of activity. He couldn't stop thinking about when they had kissed, all those weeks ago (although it seemed like _years_ to him). But wanted _more_. He wanted _her _- all of her - and that is exactly what she had given him.

He never thought that he would feel this way, especially about Molly. She had always just been his pathologist and nothing more. She was reliable, consistent and above all she was loyal to him. He had always cared for her as a friend. He never thought that it would escalate into this.

What was it? Love? Lust? Or something else? He had never loved anyone before - certainly not in a romantic way. He had admitted to her - to _himself_ - that he was in love with her. But was he? Was he in love, or was this just a phase he was going through? Was he doing all of this because he felt guilty about Robert?

All of the questions were starting to hurt his head.

"Sherlock?"

He looked down at her and smiled. "Yes, Molly."

"How long have you been awake?" she inquired sleepily.

"Not too long," Sherlock replied, although the truth was he didn't _know_ how long he had been awake - how long he had been thinking about her.

Molly looked over her shoulder at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table. "There's about an hour before I have to be at work." She paused and looked back at him. "Last night really happened, didn't it?" she asked. Sherlock nodded and she collapsed onto the pillow, sighing. "Best birthday _ever_."

"I'm sure," responded the detective, chuckling, "I enjoyed it as well."

"Really?"

"Yes, of course, it was... exhilarating."

Molly smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. "We should... do it again sometime? I-if you'd like, that is."

"What's not to like?" Sherlock said with a playful grin. Molly giggled.

"Won't John be wondering where you are?" she asked him.

"I don't suppose so. He's with one of his girlfriends."

"_One_ of his girlfriends?!" Molly questioned.

"No, I didn't mean..." Sherlock rolled his eyes when he realised she was laughing at him, "Well, anyway, he's probably too busy with her to be worrying about me."

"What's her name?"

"Mary something or other. Though that's not important."

"Well, I'd better start getting ready..." Molly said, sitting upright. She started to get out of bed, but blushed when she realised she was _completely naked_. "Oh, um..."

"Just go, Molly." Sherlock instructed. She nodded and gingerly stood up, facing away from him at all times. Okay, she shouldn't really be embarrased considering just _what_ had happened that night, but she still felt very self-concious. She walked into the small ensuite bathroom, without locking the door behind her.

Sherlock let out a deep sigh as the shower started to run. _Why have I waited so long for this? _he thought to himself, _why have I waited until now to experience it?_ He knew the answer straight away. _Sentiment, that's why. Don't want to get attatched. I supposed there's nothing I can do to change that now... Not that I really want to._

* * *

When Molly emerged from the shower, Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, and neither were any of his clothes. She worried for a second that he had gone without saying goodbye (or, worse still, that it had all been some magical dream) but her concern faded quickly when she heard the sound of the kettle boiling.

"Tea or coffee?" he called from the kitchen, making Molly gasp.

"Er, tea please," she replied, "But you don't have to-"

"I insist."

The mousey pathologist smiled and moved over to her wardrobe. She picked out a black pencil skirt, matching flats and, instead of one of the hideous patterned blouses that she normally worse, selected a fitted white shirt which she knew would show off her figure. She wanted to look good today. She _felt_ good today.

After laying out the clothes on her bed, she moved onto her closet and picked out some clean underwear, which she put on straight away.

She sat on the bed, drying her hair with the towel (her hairdryer was broken). Once that was done, she changed into the outfit she had prepared, adding a black cardigan to her attire. She applied a touch of make-up and pinned up her hair into a somewhat elaborate style. _There, _she thought with a smile, as she looked into her mirror, _that will have to do._

* * *

"Your tea is on the coffee table..." Sherlock began when he heard the door open. He stopped when he saw her standing in the doorway. "You look... different."

"I'll take that as I compliment, shall I?" Molly joked, giggling. She took a seat next to him on the sofa and picked up her cup of tea. "I wanted to look nice." she told him.

"You always look nice." he replied.

"Nicer than usual, then."

"Why are you so attractive?" Sherlock pondered.

"You're the consulting detective. You tell me."

He swallowed. She almost sounded seductive when she said that.

"Are you having breakfast?" he asked.

"I'm not really hungry," she answered, "Though I suppose I'll have to eat _something_ to get me through the day."

There it was again. That little change of tone in her voice that made him want her more than anything.

"What are we going to tell everyone?" she inquired. Sherlock furrowed his brows. "About... us."

"What about us?"

"Well, that we... You know."

"I know what?"

"Stop it, Sherlock," Molly said sternly, "You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about."

"Why should we have to tell anyone?" asked Sherlock, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, we can't just keep it a secret, can we?"

"Maybe we can."

* * *

**So, are Molly and Sherlock going to tell anyone? Or are they actually going to have a secret relationship?**

**And will Robert come back? (the fact that I brought up the subject should give you a hint.)**

**Thanks for reading Sherlollians! Reviews appreciated!**


	14. Keeping it a Secret

**Hello again! Another late update, I'm sorry. Too much stuff to do. It would be nice to be a full-time fanfiction author.**

**Thanks for everyone who left a review. Much appreciated. :)**

**I'm really sorry about the chapter title.**

* * *

It was decided.

Molly and Sherlock were going to keep their relationship (or whatever _this_ was) a secret, at least until both of them were ready. They both thought it would work. Molly was excited by the prospect of a secret love affair, like something out of a movie. Sherlock's reasoning was more logical - if nobody knew about them, nobody would hurt or threaten Molly in order to hurt him or force him to do something.

As Molly left for work, the consulting detective was left on his own, thinking things through. He went to his mind palace and deposited memories there. Normally he would just forget about this sort of thing - love was a disadvantage, after all - but it was like his brain was _forbidding_ him from deleting everything to do with Molly. Was she really _that_ important?

Eventually his phone rang and he came back to reality. For a second he thought it might be Molly calling. He was disappointed to find that it was only John.

_Only _John? John was his best friend. Why was he _disappointed_?

"Shouldn't you be at work?" was the first thing he said as he answered the call.

"Yeah, I'm on my break. Listen, Sherlock, where are you?" the doctor asked, with worry and the slightest hint of annoyance, "I came back to the flat and you weren't there. I tried texting you earlier, but you didn't answer. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. I was just checking to make sure you hadn't..." John took a moment to think of the right words, "_Done_ anything that you might regret."

"If you are referring to my former usage of drugs, then you have nothing to worry about," his friend snapped back, "I have been clean for years and I plan to keep it that way. Frankly I am annoyed at you for asking. Anything _else_ that I have 'done' is no concern of yours."

"So you have done something?"

"Yes, John, I have done _something. _Therefore I could have done anything. I could have done some flower arranging for all you know."

"Right..." John replied, and then added: "Just to get this clear, you haven't actually been flower arranging, have you?"

"Of course not!"

"Okay, okay! I was just checking," he responded, chuckling, "So what _have_ you done?"

There was a pause.

"It doesn't matter." Sherlock said.

"No, I'm interested now, what have you been up to?"

"_It doesn't matter_."

With that he hung up, slammed the phone down on the table and ruffled his hair irritably.

* * *

Molly couldn't stop thinking about last night. _Of course_ she couldn't stop thinking about last night. How could she _not_ think about last night?

She had dreamed about it so many times, imagining herself and Sherlock on the perfect date... Last night had been so much more. It had been _real_, not one of her stupid fantasies.

As she worked, she couldn't stop grinning excitedly. It would look strange to anyone who walked in, she supposed. No-one smiles in a _morgue_. They would think she was mad. She probably _was_ mad.

"Molly?"

The voice from behind her caused her to jump, but she soon composed herself and turned around to face her visitor.

"John," she replied, smiling, "What can I do for you?"

"It's just, em, well... It's Sherlock."

Her smile faded.

"Is he okay? Where is he? Have you spoken to him? Has he said anything?"

John blinked a couple of times, overwhelmed by how rapidly the words had come out of her mouth.

"He's fine, I think," he answered, "A bit touchy, but that's normal, I suppose. I've got no idea where he is - he didn't tell me. I spoke to him on the phone. He said... Hang on, what did you mean?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You asked me if he'd said anything. What did you mean?"

"Oh! Right, w-well, um..." she stumbled over her words and looked away, "I-it's nothing really, just... I dunno, I was just asking a question, I guess. I-it didn't... mean anything."

John nodded, but he could tell that something was amiss. He studied her for a moment, using techniques that Sherlock had taught him.

"Molly?"

"Yeah?"

"You've, er... On your neck, you've got, er..." He cast her an awkward smile as she realised what he was talking about.

She gasped and blushed profusely, as she placed a hand on her neck, covering up the marks. She then took the bobble out of her hair and made sure that they were no longer visible.

_Shit._

"Oh, right, thank you," she said. She tried to smile but ended up grimacing in embarrassment.

* * *

"Sherlock?"

John looked up, confused, as his flat mate walked through the door and took a seat in his usual leather armchair.

"John." the detective replied.

"Where have you been?"

"I've got a case."

"No you haven't," said John, "Lestrade said he hasn't seen you all day."

Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh. "I think you are forgetting that I am in fact a _consulting_ detective. People _do_ come to me for help. I do not always have to work with those incompetents."

"You mean the police?"

"Yes, who else?"

John rolled his eyes. "So, this case, tell me about it."

"There's not much to tell. It's rather tedious, actually." Sherlock told.

"Then why did you take it?"

"Well, I had nothing better to do."

The sandy-haired man picked up a newspaper from the table and turned to the sports pages. "You could always try watching telly."

"That program you forced me to watch last time was ridiculous," his friend responded, "Statues don't move, for God's sakes!"

"I don't mean _Doctor Who_, I mean one of those science shows or something," John informed him, "I'm sure you'd love them. There's one on tonight. I forget what it's called. About the universe."

"I don't _care_ about the universe."

"No, of course not, because we all know that the universe revolves around you, doesn't it?"

_"Does_ it?" Sherlock asked incredulously. John couldn't tell whether he was being sarcastic. He raised an eyebrow.

"I saw Molly today." he said, changing the subject.

"What did she say?"

"She didn't say..." The doctor put the newspaper down and looked straight at Sherlock. "Is there something going on here that I don't know about?"

"Why would there be?"

"I don't know..."

John looked down for a second, pondering over everything that had happened today. Sherlock and Molly were definetly hiding something. He tried to deduce what it was for himself.

_Molly slept with someone last night, obviously, and Sherlock knows about it, somehow? She begged him to keep it a secret, which he is trying to do... Clearly she doesn't want anyone to know, so maybe it was someone she had never met before? A one night stand? Seems logical._

He grinned as he came to a conclusion, proud of himself for working it all out.

* * *

**And there you go! Poor John is so pleased with himself and he's got it completely wrong. I'm not particularly happy with this chapter, but never mind. Thanks for reading, Sherlollians, and hope to see you soon :)**


	15. Memories and False Assumptions

**I know I only posted the other day, but I wanted to get this out of the way quickly. **

**Thanks for everyone who read and reviewed last time. It brightens up my day when I see the stats.**

**This chapter contains a few embedded memories and a fair amount of false assumptions (hence the title), some of which are easier to spot than others. **

**Once again, thank you for reading... I really need to think of something to say instead of 'once again'... that's even one of the chapter titles...**

* * *

The next couple of weeks went by rather quickly. Sherlock and Molly continued to hide their romance from the world. They saw each other almost every night, apart from when Sherlock was caught up with work. Most of the time they stayed at Molly's flat, but occasionally Sherlock would take her to some romantic venue. She couldn't believe it. She was dating _Sherlock Holmes_. She felt like the luckiest girl on the planet.

Sherlock was questioned by several people about why he had been absent recently, especially by John, whose curiosity was growing by the day. He was starting to wonder if there was something going on between the two of them, but, of course, that was absurd. Sherlock was... Well, Sherlock - an asexual sociopath who didn't seem to care about anything. Although that wasn't entirely true. Sherlock cared about his friends and, even though he tried not to show it, it was blatantly obvious to the rest of the world that he would do anything to protect them.

John wasn't sure what, but he could tell that there was _something_ happening which he didn't know about.

* * *

"Morning." said Sherlock, as Molly came into the kitchen. He cast her a smile as he stirred their tea.

"Oh, morning." she responded, beaming back at him.

They had developed a sort of domestic routine. Sherlock would make the tea whilst Molly took a shower, and then Molly would make them all breakfast (including Toby, who relished the taste of tinned cat food in the morning).

"Are you going to eat something this morning or will I have to force you?" Molly asked with a mischievous grin.

"Oh, I'd like to see you try." replied Sherlock. His voice made her shiver.

"Are you having anything or not?" she laughed.

"No, thanks, I'm not hungry."

Molly sighed and moved into the living room. "You never are. Oh, well, I won't have anything either, then."

"You could get some crisps when you get to work." Sherlock suggested, knowing that crisps were Molly's favourite snack. He remembered the day when he had bought her some crisps - the same day she told him about her father, and that she didn't count. She did count, of course. She had always counted.

"I suppose I could do that." she replied, sitting down on the sofa. Toby jumped onto her lap and she immediately started stroking his fur.

"Your tea's ready." Sherlock brought the two cups over and placed them down on the low wooden table.

Molly smiled gratefully. "You're getting better at making the tea."

"Usually John or Mrs Hudson make the tea, so I don't have to. Although, I have had a fair amount of experience..." He thought about what had happened after the trial. Moriarty had just been released and he came to Baker Street to give clues about the 'fall'. Sherlock made tea.

* * *

"I've made tea." Mrs Hudson said, walking into the living room of 221B. She was carrying a tray with a teapot, cups, saucers and all the other necessities included in making the perfect cup of English tea.

"Oh, you didn't have to." John replied, smiling thankfully.

"I wanted to," his landlady told him. She looked around for John's girlfriend, who had stayed the night, "Has Mary gone already?" she inquired.

"Er, no, she's just getting changed."

Mrs Hudson nodded and peered down the corridor. "Is Sherlock back yet?"

"No, I don't think so," John answered, "He's been gone all night. It's weird. I haven't seen much of him recently."

"Oh, well he must be on a case."

"Well, that's just the thing. Greg - er, Lestrade - said that he hasnt needed to call him in for weeks. Sherlock said something about a case, but normally he makes notes about them. There wasn't anything in his notebook."

Mrs Hudson gave him a look, as if telling him not to read through Sherlock's private notes. "If he isn't on a case, then why isn't he bored out of his mind? You remember what he did a few years ago? Bullet holes in the wall... I was _furious_."

John had to smile at the memory. "It doesn't make sense. He would normally be so frustrated."

"Well, let's just assume he's on a case that he hasn't told us about."

* * *

"When are we going to tell people about... us?" Molly asked, nervously tapping her fingers on the edge of the sofa.

"Whenever you want," responded Sherlock casually, "I suppose there's no reason for us to hide it."

"Then why did we hide it in the first place?"

The detective let out a sigh. "I thought if we told everyone, _Robert_," he still couldn't say the name without gritting his teeth, "Might find out and come back to hurt you. I was protecting you."

Molly didn't know how to reply. "That's... Thank you."

"You haven't seen him since the night I spoke with him?" Sherlock questioned.

"No, I haven't."

"He's resigned, obviously. My threat must have frightened him." Molly rolled her eye's at Sherlock's statement. "There's no reason for us to keep up the façade."

"So, when do we announce it?"

"Tonight, at 221B. We can tell John and Mrs Hudson first, if that's alright with you." Molly nodded. "We probably ought to leave Lestrade out of the equation for the moment - gossip spreads like wildfire at the Yard... Have I missed anyone out?"

Molly looked at him incredulously. "Maybe we should tell our relations?" she said slowly, like she was speaking to a child, "Such as, _your brother_?"

"Mycroft? Oh, well, he probably knows already."

The pathologist practically leapt up, sending Toby flying. "He knows? How can he _possibly_ know?"

"He's Mycroft. He's got cameras everywhere, and he's always keeping tabs on me." Sherlock casually shrugged his shoulders. He looked over at the clock on the mantelpiece. "You better get going or you'll be late for work."

"Oh, right. I'll see you later then?" Sherlock nodded. Molly leaned down and kissed his cheek, and before he knew it she was gone.

* * *

**So that was it! Thanks for reading guys! I know my updating has been a bit random. Sometimes I get loads of time because of the lack of homework, and other times I have masses and masses of work and I simply can't spare the time. Thanks for being patient all the time :)**


	16. Everything Changes

**Hello guys! This is chapter sixteen... I actually don't know how long this will go on for. Maybe I will take it to twenty or twenty five or even thirty chapters. I know the chapters are really short and I don't update often, but it's hard because of damn school.**

**It was my birthday the other day and I have been eating chocolates and thinking about Sherlolly (and staring at Benedict Cumberbatch's face) since then. Well, my friends came over too, but that's not important. We were in the middle of watching a study in pink and one of them said 'can we stop this now?' and I looked at her and... well... you can imagine...**

**I got a review from a guest user named 'Mystie', who says I should move the plot forward. I shall do so. In fact, this chapter was going to be a big dramatic one anyway. I know you were trying to give me advice which is fine and I appreciate it, but I have no idea who you are and you can't really expect my story to change for one person. This is mine. I know other people read it and enjoy it (which makes me extremely happy), but it's my work. Maybe if I knew more about you - or read any of your fanfics (if you have any) - I would be able to take your advice more. I don't mean to rant on. It's just my opinion.**

**Anyway, let the chapter commence.**

* * *

No matter how hard she tried, Molly couldn't stop her hands from shaking as she performed the post-mortem. She was nervous. Tonight their secret would be out. There was no turning back now. She trusted John and Mrs Hudson. They were lovely people, who wouldn't judge or tease... Well, John might make fun of Sherlock a little, but that was to be expected. They were best friends and that's what best friends do.

Or so Molly thought, anyway. She had never really had a best friend, apart from Toby. But he was a cat.

She couldn't concentrate. Normally this came so naturally to her. It was her ideal job (as morbid as that sounded). She loved studying the body, but she lacked the social skills to be a surgeon. She became a pathologist, which seemed to work fine. She was paid well and she enjoyed what she did, even if it involved being surrounded by the dead.

Molly let out a forlorn sigh and started clearing away. She couldn't believe it had taken her that long to work out the cause of death. Was she really _that_ worried?

After she had cleaned her equipment and washed her hands (she always did, even though she wore latex gloves whilst working) she collected her things and made her way out of the hospital.

She strolled down the pavement, shivering a little as she walked over the spot where Sherlock had landed after his infamous fall. She remembered it clearly. He had come to her that night, asking for her help. He said he _needed_ her. He needed her to help him fake his suicide. She had complied, of course. Although it was hard to hide it from others who were close to him, knowing that Sherlock was alive was the best feeling.

Sherlock had done so much for her. She had done even more for him, but that was different. She had _always_ loved him. It was only once he had seen Molly hurt that the once cold and seemingly heartless consulting detective realised how much he cared. Robert was gone now and, despite how much he had hurt her, Molly was sort of glad that he had came into her life, because if he hadn't Sherlock wouldn't have brought her home from the morgue that night. He wouldn't have comforted her. He wouldn't have kissed her. He wouldn't have invited her out for 'dinner'. Robert had changed everything. But Robert wasn't here anymore.

"Molly?"

She froze.

Silence. It must have been her imagination.

She continued onwards, her heart racing a little, even though she knew it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

"Molly!"

This time she didn't stop, even though she was terrified. The best thing to do now was walk on and pretend nothing was happening.

"Molly! Wait!"

She heard him start to run after her - only slowly, but he was running nonetheless. She picked up her pace, her heart thumping and thoughts exploding in her mind. It had all been so _perfect_. Of course something had to happen to ruin it.

She gasped as a hand grabbed her arm and spun her around. For a moment they were so close they were almost touching, until Molly stumbled backwards. She stared at him, her eyes wide in terror.

"W-what do you want, Robert?" she asked quietly. Her hands started to shake again, only this time it was out of fear rather than anxiety.

"I don't want anything. I was just leaving work and I saw you." the doctor replied.

"Y-you don't work here anymore. You resigned. Sherlock said-"

"Don't listen to what Sherlock says," his tone was softer than she remembered it, "He doesn't know everything, Molls."

The abbreviation made her shiver.

"I would _never_ quit my job," Robert continued, "I love it. Helping kids is just wonderful." He let out a sigh. "I know I've got a bad temper, but I'm trying to control it. I've taken anger management classes. Partly because I don't want to find myself in a situation where I snap at one of the kids, but mainly because I missed you and I know that the only way you'll ever take me back is if I change."

Molly's mouth formed an 'o'.

"I'm genuinely sorry. I know we only dated for a week or so, but I think this could really work."

"R-Robert, it's good that you've made the effort and everything, but I really don't think that-"

"Just hear me out," he interjected, "Come back to my place. We can talk about it. We'll sort it out. It'll be fine."

After a moment of consideration, Molly agreed.

* * *

"I'm so glad you're giving me a second chance," Robert said. He led her inside his flat, his hand rested on her back. She felt her body tense. "I was scared to come and find you, in case Sherlock..."

Molly saw a pained expression spread over his face.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, "What did he say?"

"He beat me up," her companion responded, slumping down onto the sofa, "I was scared for my life. He said that if I came anywhere near you he would kill me."

"No! He wouldn't. He would never do that," Molly said quickly, "Y-you're lying."

"I'm not, Molly. It's true. I had to go to hospital, it was that bad."

"W-well, even if he did, it shows just how much he cares about me."

"He doesn't, though. He told me he just needed you for access to the morgue and permission to take things home."

Molly felt her heart sink.

"No," she whispered, "No, he cares about me."

"He's using you, Molly."

"No, he... He wouldn't... He's not..." Her eyes started welling up with tears. "No, Robert, stop it. Please. Stop lying. He isn't... He isn't like that."

Robert stood up and placed a hand on her arm. She tried to move away, but before she had a chance he had pulled her close to him.

"Robert..." she tried, as a tear ran down her cheek.

"He doesn't care about you, Molly," he told her, "He's just using you to get what he wants."

Molly tried to ignore him. She knew that Sherlock wasn't like that. Robert was trying to brainwash her. He was lying. The conflicting information made her head hurt.

"He's not... Please, just stop it... L-let me go."

"I care about you much more than he ever will," Robert said, ignoring her, "You have to get rid of him from your life."

"No, I don't." Molly replied, her voice a little stronger. She managed to wriggle out of his grasp. "He _does_ care about me and it doesn't matter what you say - nothing's going to change the way we feel about each other."

Robert blinked. "What did you just say?"

"I-I... That's not... I didn't mean-"

"You're _together_, aren't you?" he asked incredulously, "Is that how this works? I leave and you go and replace me with some other man?"

"He's not just some other man. He's my friend and he has been for years. I _love_ him."

She saw his expression change. It was the same face he had whenever he was about to hurt her. She automatically took a step backwards.

"And you don't love me?" Molly opened her mouth to speak but Robert answered for her: "No, of course you don't. You only have eyes for Sherlock. You were using _me _to make _him_ jealous."

"That's not true!" Molly exclaimed.

"Of course it is. Don't lie, Molly."

"I wasn't ly-"

She stopped talking when his fist collided with her face. She collapsed onto the floor and raised a hand to her cheek. She started sobbing helplessly - she couldn't stop herself.

This wasn't like the other times. He didn't look guilty. He didn't apologise. He stood there, fists clenched, looking like he was about to explode with rage.

"I've been working _so_ hard to get you back and this is what you give me in return?" he yelled.

"I'm sorry!" Molly wailed, "D-don't... Please, Robert..."

"Just shut up. Get out." he ordered. She was too afraid to move. "Get out!" he shouted.

She stood up quickly, tripping over her feet. Rushing out of the door, she reached into her pocket for her phone. She had left it in her bag, which she had left inside. She wasn't going back now.

She practically ran to the nearest main road and looked around for a telephone box. People stared at her, whispering and muttering to themselves. She didn't acknowledge them.

When she eventually found a box, she dialed Sherlock's mobile number (which she had memorised).

There was no answer.

She tried her home number, and then Sherlock's.

Still nothing.

She tried to think of someone else to call. Only one number came to mind.

* * *

**Cliffhanger! Sort of. Who is Molly going to call next? **

**Thanks for reading. I wanted Robert to make a dramatic reappearance. But the question is: will he come back again? And will Molly and Sherlock get to tell John and Mrs Hudson about their secret romance?**

**Love you all, munchlings :)**


	17. Revelations

**Chapter seventeen! I hope you're used to my odd updates by now. Updating when there's school is just awkward, but I try to do so. My chapters are so short because A. I don't have much time B. I always want to post them as quickly as possible, and C. That's the way uhuh uhuh I like it uhuh uhuh. **

**Okay, I apologise for whatever... _that_ was...**

**I know a lot of you guessed who Molly would ring, and the majority of you got it right. Someone said it might be Mycroft, which is a good idea because he's a governmenty man (or whatever they call them) but that got me thinking about 'why would Molly have Mycroft's number?' and I went on a long and pretty unneccessary thought journey...**

**As ever (look, I didn't say once again! I'm so proud!) thanks for reading and reviewing (if you do [because you might {these things are awesome whatever they're called}]). I appreciate it a lot and it makes me happppppyyyyy :D**

**The title of the chapter comes from the fact that *somebody who is in this chapter don't ask me find out for yourself* finds out about Robert hurting Molly AND Sherlock and Molly's relationship.**

* * *

Molly's hands were still trembling as she slotted the last of her change into the machine and then dialled the number. She was desperate. She didn't need any urgent medical attention, but she needed to hear someone's voice. Someone she trusted – to calm her down and tell her everything was going to be fine.

Of course, it wasn't going to be fine. She couldn't bear to think about what Sherlock was going to do to Robert. Even though he had hurt her (both physically and mentally) she couldn't stand the thought of him being hurt in return. She couldn't even cope with the idea of him being in prison. He _deserved_ to be in jail for everything he had done. However, Molly's kind nature was getting the better of her. She forgave everyone, no matter what they had done, which she knew was a bad thing, but she couldn't help it.

As she waited for the call to be answered, she couldn't help thinking that this was her fault. She had, after all, agreed to go with Robert. He hadn't _forced_ her. Okay, he had persuaded her, but that was completely different.

"Hello?" came the voice at the end of the telephone. Molly sighed, relieved.

"Hi Greg." she replied, suddenly relaxing, although she was still sniffling a little.

"Hey, Molly? You okay?" asked the inspector.

"Oh, I'm, um..." _There's no point hiding it now, is there?_ "Not really."

"What's wrong?"

"It's just… It's just Robert." she told him.

"Robert?"

"My boyfriend. W-well, ex-boyfriend. We broke up a while ago."

"What about him?" Lestrade questioned, "What has he done? Molly?"

Molly could feel her eyes brimming up again as she thought about it. "He asked me to come back to his flat with him – to give him another chance. And so I did, but he… He…"

"Molly?" Greg sounded truly concerned, "Molly, has he hurt you?"

"Y-yeah. Well…" She ran a hand over her cheekbone, where Robert had hit her. "A bit."

"A bit? What has he done? Where are you?"

"I'm fine, Greg, don't worry. It's just a little cut. But… Can you come here? Please?"

"Where are you?" he asked again.

Molly looked around for a sign and, once she had found one, told him the street address.

"I'm coming now. I'll be there soon. Keep talking to me."

"Um... Could you call Sherlock please? Can you ask him to come?"

"I'll text him. Do you need an ambulance?"

"No, no, it's okay. _I'm_ okay. It's all… Everything is okay."

"Okay."

* * *

Less than ten minutes later, a silver BMW pulled up on the curb a few metres away and Lestrade came running out. Molly was glad that he had brought his own car rather than a police vehicle. She tentatively made her way out of the red box and over to him.

"Molly!" he called out, running towards her. She tried her best to smile at him. "Oh God, are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine." she said quietly.

Greg took hold of her hands and looked into her eyes. "It's okay now, you're safe."

Suddenly a taxi pulled up beside them and Sherlock practically leapt out, dressed in his usual _Belstaff_ coat and blue scarf. He pushed Lestrade aside and wrapped his arms around her. Lestrade looked slightly confused. Sherlock held her tightly, not wanting to let go.

"I'm sorry." he whispered.

"It's not your fault." she told him.

"Sherlock," said the silver-haired detective, brows furrowed, "What's going on?"

"Not now, Lestrade." Sherlock responded, still clutching Molly.

"But Sherlock-"

"I said not now." he snapped.

Molly sighed. "It's okay. You can tell him."

Sherlock looked over to Greg, who looked even more puzzled. He hesitated before speaking.

"Lestrade," he began, "Molly and I have something to tell you."

"Oh, right." There was a short silence. "What is it?"

Sherlock finally let go of Molly and took a breath.

"We are currently in a relationship."

Lestrade's mouth hung open for a brief moment. "_What_? You mean you're going out?" he asked, astonished because he never thought for one second that Sherlock would ever be in a relationship, especially with Molly.

"That's what I just said, Lestrade." Sherlock answered insolently.

Molly would have laughed if it wasn't for her current emotional state.

"So, you're together?"

Sherlock let out an irritated sigh.

"Right, yes you are, sorry," Greg said, "Oh, I'm happy for you. But that's not the important thing now, is it? The important thing is making sure you're okay." He gave Molly a gentle smile.

"And finding that awful man." Sherlock added.

"Sherlock, please don't hurt him." Molly requested, biting her lip. Lestrade looked at him with a raised eyebrow, agreeing with her.

"Fine. As long as Lestrade puts him to justice."

The inspector gave a curt nod. "What's his address?" he asked Molly. She hesitated for a moment, not entirely sure that she wanted to tell him.

Sherlock told him instead.

"Moll, I'm really sorry," Lestrade started, "But I'm going to need evidence. Have you got anything?"

"Hospital records." Sherlock stated, whilst Molly was thinking.

"_Hospital_ records?" Sherlock nodded and Greg put his head in his hands. "Shit. What did he _do_ to you?"

"He just… My shoulder." Molly replied, "He… It was dislocated."

"Jesus, I'm sorry, Molly."

"Not your fault." she said with a timid smile.

"You better go now, Lestrade." said Sherlock.

"Right, I'll go. What about you two?"

"Don't worry. I'll look after Molly." He smiled at her and put an arm around her so she could lean on his shoulder.

"Right…" Lestrade watched the pair for a moment and then shook his head. "I'll see you soon, I guess."

"Goodbye Lestrade. Make sure you get the right Robert Henderson."

The inspector let out a half laugh. "Ha, funny. Goodbye Sherlock. Bye Molly."

Molly didn't get a chance to say goodbye as Greg walked back over to his car, obviously keen to arrest the terrible person that he had been informed about.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, Molly?"

"Are we still going to tell John and Mrs Hudson tonight?"

Sherlock let out a sigh and moved a strand of chocolate hair from out of her face. "That isn't important. We'll discuss it later. I want to make sure you're alright first."

"I'm fine, Sherlock," Molly told him, "Don't worry about me."

"How can I _not_ worry? Molly, I told you that you were safe. I told you – I _promised_ you – that he would never touch you again, but he did. What sort of a man does that make me?"

"An excellent one." Molly turned to face him and smiled, "You're the best man I have ever known, Sherlock."

She saw his mouth curve into a frown for a few milliseconds once she had said that, but he quickly changed to a smile.

"This time I'm certain. He isn't going to hurt you ever again, Molly. You have my word."

* * *

**Blegh. That's it. Blegh. I don't know. Blegh. Just bye. (Blegh [blegh {blegh} blegh} blegh).**


	18. All That Matters

**Hello amigos! Here we are at chapter eighteen! **

**Thanks for everyone's reviews, in particular a guest user who was very enthusiastic and posted a review on pretty much every chapter. It made me chuckle :)**

**I have two ideas for the end of this story. One of them is very much a 'happy ending', with lots of fluff and metaphorical ice-cream (because everyone loves ice-cream, just like everyone loves fluff. I don't know where this is going). Anyway, the second ending is dramatic and probably a bit over the top. There will be happiness in the end, but more damage will be done... I wanted to know whether you thought I should do a safe, cute ending or a dramatic and angsty one. Thoughts?**

**Once again (that's like my catchphrase now) thank you for reading and to everyone who leaves a review. It makes me happy. Like when there's a rainbow on a horrible day and the sun comes out and it becomes all lovely... Hold on. I like rainbows. And ice-cream. Yet I've written two fanfictions about Molly being hurt and tortured and upset. I don't understand my brain.**

* * *

The trip to Baker Street seemed to last for hours. Molly's head was blurred, filled with thoughts about Robert. She needed that man out of her life for good, which is where Lestrade came into it, she supposed. He was going to arrest him and everything was going to be fine. Molly knew that there were no such things as happy endings, but this is as close to one as she was going to get.

Sherlock didn't speak for most of the journey. It was like on her birthday, when they were coming home from the park. He hadn't spoken to her then. Only this time it was different. Now he looked plagued with guilt, like he thought that everything that had happened was his fault.

Molly put a reassuring hand on his arm.

"It's okay," she told him, "I'm fine."

This only made him frown more.

"No, you're not," he replied, "You're hurt, and not just physically. I can tell you're upset and it's because of _me_."

"Sherlock, that's not true. It's not your fault. It was _my_ fault for being stupid and going with R-Robert to his flat. And Greg's going to get him now, so it'll all be okay."

"You're so brave, Molly," the detective said, smiling sadly, "You've been through so much. _Too_ much."

"I've got you. That's all that matters."

Sherlock looked at her, _really_ looked at her. She was a truly wonderful person. He couldn't imagine being without her.

"I love you, Molly," he told her, taking hold of her hand, "I don't say that enough."

"You don't need to."

"But I thought-"

"They're just words, Sherlock," Molly interrupted him, "They don't mean anything. You being here - to hold my hand, making me feel like the luckiest girl in the world - that's the important thing."

Sherlock suddenly leaned over her and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her, until she realised he was just unbuckling her seatbelt.

"We're here."

* * *

Once they got through the door, Sherlock hung up Molly's coat, and then own his coat and scarf.

"What happened to your bag?" he asked, then immediately answered himself: "You left it at his flat."

Molly nodded. "My phone and all of my papers were in there."

"I can go and get them later, when Lestrade has finished," Sherlock replied. He placed his hand on Molly's upper arm and smiled. "You go straight upstairs. I'll go and fetch Mrs Hudson."

She did as he said and tentatively made her way up the creaky old staircase. She walked into the living room, where she saw John on the sofa. With a woman. And they were making out.

"Um..." Molly said, her hands suspended because she didn't know what to do with them.

John turned around quickly and the woman gasped in alarm.

"Oh, Molly, hi." the doctor said, smiling uncomfortably. He scratched the back of his neck. "This isn't really, er... Is there anything in particular you wanted?"

"W-well, actually-"

"She'll be up in a moment. She's just got a few more dishes to wash." Sherlock informed, appearing beside Molly. He looked at his friend and his girlfriend, who were sitting rather awkwardly. "Hello John." he said with a nod, and then reluctantly added: "Mary."

"What's going on?" John asked, "Why is Molly here?"

"I shall explain in a moment, John," the detective replied, "We're waiting until Mrs Hudson arrives. I do hope she'll manage the stairs okay with her hip." Molly rolled her eyes at him. "Miss Morstan, I would appreciate it if you left."

"No, Sherlock, she doesn't have to-"

"Molly, do you really want _her_, a woman you have never met before in your life, to know about this?"

John looked at the pair with a confused expression as Molly thought about it.

"She's John's girlfriend and John's flat as well as yours. She doesn't have to go. I'm sure she's reliable."

The two women cast each other a smile.

"What did you want me for then, Sherlock?" Molly and Sherlock turned around when they heard Mrs Hudson's voice behind them. "Oh, hello Molly, love," she said, "I didn't know you were here."

"Mrs Hudson, why don't you take a seat?" Sherlock suggested. His landlady nodded and went to sit in his armchair. "Molly, you can sit in John's chair."

"What about you?" Mary asked.

"I'll stand." the detective answered with a tight smile.

"I think I'll stand too." said Molly.

"So, what's the big announcement?" John questioned, "What's so important that you had to interrupt Mrs Hudson's washing up, and myself and Mary's... Date."

"As a matter of fact it is _very_ important," Sherlock said, "It's about Molly and I."

"What about you?" asked John.

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but Molly got there first.

"We're in love," she blurted out quickly, "I know it seems ridiculous because I'm just me and Sherlock's, well, Sherlock, but we genuinely love each other a-and I just want you to know that I think he's the best man on the planet and there is no-one else I would rather be with."

She turned to look at Sherlock, who put his arms around her and kissed her forehead.

Mrs Hudson made an 'aw' noise. John looked baffled.

"Wait. Wait a minute. Are you saying you two have been dating all of this time and I didn't know?" he asked.

"Since my birthday." Molly told him, smiling at the memory.

"Oh, well that's... That's great. But I don't understand. Why did you suddenly decide this? What happened to make you feel like this, Sherlock?"

There was silence for a moment.

"That isn't important, John." Sherlock said quietly.

"It's alright, Sherlock, you can tell them." Molly replied.

After a few seconds, Sherlock nodded and told them the story about Robert. When he started talking about what had happened that night, Molly reached out and took hold of his hand. She bit her lip as he spoke, reliving it all in her head.

"That's what happened, John," Sherlock concluded, "That's what made me realise how much I care about her."

John and Mary sat with their mouths open, unable to take everything in.

"Oh. Well that explains a few things," John said, "Molly, I'm sorry. If I'd have known-"

"It's okay, John." Molly cut in.

Mrs Hudson stood and wrapped her arms around her.

"I'm so sorry, dear. It's such a terrible thing, I should know."

Molly looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

The woman shook her head. "It doesn't matter." She turned to Sherlock, who was stood with a rueful expression covering his face. "You're a good man, Sherlock Holmes."

"You took care of her when she needed you," John added, "That takes courage."

"I wouldn't have got through it without you, Sherlock," said Molly, "God knows what I'd have done. Or what Robert might have..." She stopped and shook her head. "No. He's gone now. I shouldn't think like that."

"Molly, I'm so pleased that you're okay," told Mary, who everyone had seemed to have forgotten about, "I barely know you but I can tell that you're strong. And I'm happy for you both. I know it will work out - I can just tell."

John smiled at his girlfriend, feeling somewhat proud of her.

"Does anyone want tea?" asked Mrs Hudson.

"Yes, please." replied John and the other two women.

"Yes." said Sherlock, and then added: "Please."

He turned to Molly and took hold of her hands.

"Are you alright?" he asked her. She nodded and smiled.

"I'm fine. I'm just glad that it's out now."

"Well, I suppose the worst is over with."

Molly started to laugh, and then someone started knocking persistently on the front door.

* * *

**Oooh, I wonder who is at the door! It depends on whether you want the dramatic or the fluffy ending...**

**Now the secret's finally out. I suppose they still have to tell Mycroft (if he doesn't know already, which he probably does).**

**Two things:**

**1. I had to include Mary Morstan, because I thought it would be funny for Molly to interrupt her and John having a snog.**

**2. I am convinced that the reason Mrs Hudson's husband was executed was because he had a violent temper (much like Robert's) and had been abusing her for years, as well as a really bad crime like murder to get him killed. This would explain why Mrs Hudson is always so jumpy, and why Sherlock is always so protective over her.**

**Thanks for reading, folks, and remember: I may be on the side of the angels but don't think for one second that I am one of them.**

**(Meaning I may like ice-cream, but I also like torturing characters. Actually, so do most people.)**


	19. Breakdown

**Hello guys! This is chapter nineteen. I think there are only going to be twenty chapters, because 1. it's an even number AND multiple of ten 2. there isn't much else I can do after this and 3. I have another idea which I really want to write up as a multi-chapter story.**

**Thanks again to everyone who posted a review or even just read this! I was comparing the ratio of reviews:chapters compared to my previous story and this one sort of smashed it! Hey, get me with my maths skills!**

**In this chapter we find out who was knocking at the door. I decided to go with the drama option, because lots of people would prefer that, but there will be fluff in the next chapter. It's quite short, but you know what they say: quality not quantity! Not that my writing is anywhere near the standard of Doyle or MorbidbyDefault or Emcee Frodis or Nocturnias or Petra freaking Todd (aka my idols).**

**Thanks for reading meine freunde!**

* * *

Everyone looked at the landing, as if waiting for someone else to go and answer the door. It was John who eventually decided he would go. He slowly descended the stairs, but upped his pace a little when the knocking grew louder.

"Yeah, alright, I'm coming!" he yelled.

When he opened the door, he was met with the face of a man who he didn't recognise. He had scruffy brown hair, sapphire blue eyes and an intelligent looking face not too dissimilar to Sherlock's.

"Um, can I help you?" John asked.

"Er, is Molly here? Molly Hooper?" the man inquired.

The doctor's brows instantly knitted together in suspicion. "Yes, she is. Why? How do you know her?"

"I'm one of her colleagues," the visitor told him, "She left her phone at work and I came to give it to her."

"How did you know she would be here?" questioned John curiously.

"Well, she wasn't in her flat, and she seems to really like that Sherlock bloke so I thought she might be here. It wasn't difficult to find his address. He's famous, after all."

John couldn't help but smile a little at the remark.

"Alright, then, come on upstairs," he said, holding out an arm to direct his guest towards his flat, "I'm sure Molly will be pleased to have her phone back."

The two walked up the stairs, John first with the unfamiliar man close behind him.

When they reached the landing, John started to explain to Molly what had happened, but stopped when he realised she looked utterly terrified. He looked at Sherlock, and noticed that he looked about to burst with rage.

"I've missed something again, haven't I?"

"What are you doing here, Robert Henderson?" Sherlock whispered, ignoring his flatmate. There was no answer. He asked again, his voice a lot louder.

"I came to return Molly's phone." Robert said casually, "What's the problem?"

Sherlock lunged at him, making all three of the women gasp. Robert jumped out of the way and rushed to the other side of the room, by the table. He put his hand down and his fingers clasped around a cold, metal object.

There was an agonisingly quiet silence as everyone stared at the gun in his hands.

"Robert, it's okay, you can put the gun down," John said calmly, raising his hands, as if surrendering, "We're not going to hurt you. Just put it down, Robert."

"I can't…" Robert began, his voice high-pitched, as if he was about to break down and cry, "I'm sorry, Molly… I... Please forgive me."

He started to raise the gun, pointing it in Molly's direction. Sherlock was about to jump in front of her so he could take the bullet instead, but then Robert turned the weapon around so it was facing himself. With shaking hands, he raised it to his head and rested it on his temple.

"I can't do this anymore." he continued, his voice almost breaking, "I'm such a terrible person. I-I don't know why…"

"Robert," Molly interrupted him. She took a step forward and looked him straight in the eye, causing Sherlock to panic slightly, in case he turned on her. Everyone seemed that it was her – the victim, the mousey pathologist who lacked self-esteem and confidence – who was speaking out. "You don't have to do this," she continued, "I know you have a bad temper, and that's fine. You feel bad about this, about the way you've treated me?"

Robert nodded slowly and began to lower the gun.

"Of course you do." Molly let out a sigh. "But you can get help, you know?"

"I've been taking classes." he told her.

"I know you have."

"They haven't made any difference, though. I still… Earlier on, I…"

"Don't." Molly cut him off, "Don't say it. Listen, Robert, there are people out there who can help you, and then maybe, in the future, you'll find someone else and you'll settle down. I'm _sure_ you will. Please, Robert, just trust me."

She held out her hands, like she was asking him to put the gun down. Her fingers were trembling slightly but she tried not to show her fear. She wanted to be assertive for once. Even though this man had hurt her a lot, she could tell he was damaged by something, and that he needed proper help. It was her turn to comfort someone now.

Robert hesitated for a moment and then placed the gun in her hands. She gave him a thankful smile and turned around. John took the gun off her and inspected it. Mrs Hudson put a hand on Molly's shoulder and mouthed the words 'well done' with a smile.

John took a seat next to Mary and she rested her head on his shoulder. Clearly she was quite distressed by everything that had happened. Then again, she should have known something like this would happen – her boyfriend's flatmate was _Sherlock Holmes_, after all.

Sherlock stood completely still, looking at Molly with astonishment and a small hint of pride. He had always known she was caring, but this took it so much further. How could just one person have such a warm and selfless personality?

"Sherlock?" Molly said tentatively, moving over to him. He instantly embraced her and kissed her forehead.

"You are amazing, Molly Hooper." he whispered, and then pulled away.

Robert was sitting on the floor with his head buried in his hands. It was as if he had experienced some sort of mental breakdown. Sherlock hadn't noticed that he had mental issues (which, now that he thought about it, he most certainly did have). But why would he have noticed? He was too busy being furious with him for hurting his dear sweet Molly.

"Doctor Henderson," he said, looking down at the man on the floor, "I'm going to have to call the police, you understand?"

Robert nodded.

"I'll make sure someone comes to see you. If you are diagnosed with any condition they may reduce your sentence or even let you out on bail."

"Why are you helping me?" the doctor asked, looking up at Sherlock with red eyes, raw from crying.

"Because although you may have hurt Molly – which is something I shall never forgive you for – I can tell that you yourself are hurt. You're not a bad man, just a messed up one."

John cast his friend a look telling him that he hadn't used the right words.

"Thank you," said Robert, "I really _am_ sorry, I am. Maybe it would have been better if we'd have never met in the first place."

* * *

Once Sherlock had phoned Lestrade, everyone waited and talked about what had happened. Sherlock sat on the sofa, and Molly lay down with her head on his lap. He gently stroked her hair, his own way of telling her that everything was going to be alright.

Mrs Hudson poured Robert a small glass of wine, which he drank in a few seconds. His hands were still shaking and he looked ashamed of himself.

John decided it was best for himself and Mary to leave, but before he went he whispered to Sherlock:

"The gun wasn't loaded anyway."

Sherlock muttered back: "I know it wasn't." But in reality he was too busy worrying about Molly, Mrs Hudson or John getting hurt to notice… Well, maybe he was a little bit worried for Mary too, but he would never admit that to anyone, not even himself.

"I made up all of those things," Robert said to Molly. She looked at him with a puzzled expression. "About my parents and France and all the charity work. I do that all the time – lie about things to make myself sound like a better, more interesting person than I actually am."

"It's okay," Molly replied, smiling sweetly, "Everyone lies at some point."

"The bit about books was true, though. I actually _do_ like detective novels."

Molly chuckled. "That _is_ a coincidence."

"I can't believe I'd never heard of you, Sherlock."

The consulting detective replied with a curt nod and then looked down at Molly.

"I'm sorry." he said.

"What for?" she whispered back.

"I don't know. Everything."

"Well, don't be. None of this was your fault, and it's all over now anyway."

They both smiled at each other for a few moments before their attention was brought to the sound of knocking on the front door.

* * *

**And that was the second-to-last chapter! Thanks for reading!**

**I'm sorry if that was completely farfetched and a little over the top. Also, I had to include more of Robert. I thought it would be a sad resolution if it turned out that he had mental problems and that was why he hurt Molly. I think there are two types of people with mental problems. 90% of all of them are absolutely lovely people, they just have their own problems which aren't their fault and they can't help themself sometimes (like Robert) and the other 10% are all of the psychopaths who are genuinely nasty people (like Moriarty). **

**Robert isn't a bad person and now I'm starting to feel sorry for the guy. I hate it when people take the mick out of anyone, not just with mental health problems but also disabilities. I have a few friends with certain disabilities and it's upsetting when people make fun of them.**

**Just noticed that this chapter has the same ending as the last one pretty much...**

**Thanks for reading again and byeeee! :D**


	20. The Final Chapter

**Folks, this is the last chapter! It's amazing, really, how quickly this has gone. I never planned on this being a long fanfic. I know I said I might do more chapters, but this seems like a nice way to end. It's a very very short chapter. I really want to get on with other stories. I have so many ideas, waiting to be unleashed.**

**Thank you for your ongoing support. It means so much to me that you all like my writing. And I'm still developing as a writer - and as a person - so your advice helps me to grow. I love you always and appreciate you massively.**

**What happens after this chapter is up to you, but for this story...**

**This is the end.**

* * *

Lestrade arrived a short while later, along with a couple of other police officers. Robert didn't resist the arrest. He hung his head as they fastened the handcuffs, like he had been shamed. Molly couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him, even after all of the things he had done, but that's just the sort of person she was.

"You'll have to come in for questioning at some point," Greg told her, as Robert was taken downstairs by the other officers, "Maybe tomorrow morning."

"That's fine." she replied, smiling.

"I'm coming with her," Sherlock insisted, "For… support."

Lestrade let out a laugh. "Sure. That's not a problem." He leaned over and whispered in his friend's ear: "I never thought I'd see _you_ smitten."

"I'm not smitten." the consulting detective snapped in response.

"Trust me, you are."

With that Lestrade made his way downstairs, and the only people left in the room were Molly, Sherlock and Mrs Hudson.

"I'll go downstairs," said the latter, "Leave you two in peace."

She smiled at them both as she passed them. Sherlock was left wondering if she was ever going to make them a cup of tea, but that wasn't really important now.

As soon as they were alone, Molly grabbed him by the jacket, pulled him down and kissed him like her life depended on it. It was a short and rather awkward kiss, especially for Sherlock, who was in the most uncomfortable position, but didn't move because he didn't want to make Molly feel embarrassed about kissing him.

When she pulled away, she stared at him for a moment and then flung her arms around him and clung on tightly.

"Thank you." she whispered.

"For what?" Sherlock asked.

"For just being here. For being my friend. For being… _more_ than just my friend." She let out a giggle at the thought. It was still hard to believe. "For being… _You_."

Sherlock smiled and returned the embrace. He closed his eyes, never wanting to leave her side.

"Everything's sorted now." Molly continued after several seconds. She took a step back and smiled up at him. "And our relationship is official, so…"

"So…?"

"So what shall we do to celebrate?"

* * *

**Thank you. Thank you thank you and thank you and I'm getting all emotional whilst I reminisce about this whole thing. It was short but sweet, and I hope you enjoyed it.**

**My journey as a writer is not over yet, but this voyage at least is over.**

**Thank you.**


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